


Hot and bothered

by Fanfic_Addicted



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Lube, Masturbation, Morning glory - Freeform, Oral Sex, Orgasm, POV Sandor, POV Sansa, Sex, Smuff, Swearing, Touching, Vaginal Fingering, Very explicit sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 05:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12500120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfic_Addicted/pseuds/Fanfic_Addicted
Summary: Sandor gets all hot and bothered after a conversation with his Little Bird so decides to go home and take matters into his own hands with the help of his very dirty, very vivid imagination.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been having fun playing around with writing and thought I would share this little smutty piece with you all. 
> 
> Be warned it's written from Sandor's POV as he's fantasising over Sansa in a very sexually explicit way so if you're not up for this please do not read. Everyone else, you're welcome ;)
> 
> The title sucks I'm sorry I just couldn't think what else to call it.
> 
> I realise there's probably already a hundred variants of this out there already but I'm just having fun tinkering about and one more can't hurt right :D
> 
> As always I own nothing. I write for my own enjoyment and hopefully yours.

****

Sandor had just finished teaching his last spin class of the day and was eager to grab his stuff and get out of here. He wanted to get home, have a shower, eat and crash, in that order. He was mentally planning what he'd have to eat as he shoved his navy towel into his rucksack when a voice interrupted his musings.

“Hey Sandor!”

‘Sodding hell. Sansa bloody Stark!’ he thought with with rising panic. She had a tendency to chatter on and sometimes he would be late home and miss the start of the Monday night match. But that wasn't his worry. No. In fact he enjoyed it when she hung back and chatted with him. She’s bright and witty. Yes, he enjoyed it a lot, an awful lot and therein lay the root of his problem; testosterone overtook his brain function and he became incapable of acting like a normal human being around her. 

Social interaction had never been his strength and his conversation skills leave a lot to be desired at the best of times. So when faced with the woman of his dreams, things became a million times worse. Somehow he manages to get even more shy and tongue tied. He usually ends up either grunting and blurting random words at her like a caveman, or gesturing wordlessly like a bad mime artist. An especially large and grizzly looking mime artist he thought.

Sansa is a beautiful person. Inside and out. She is kind and thoughtful, treats him the same as she does everyone else, with manners and respect. She looks him full in the face regardless of his scars, maintaining eye contact without flinching and amazingly no sign of disgust. 

Her kindness is a little overwhelming at times if he’s honest. Especially for someone used to being shunned or only afforded the barest interaction necessary for courtesy's sake. 

She also talks to him like he’s an intelligent person and she values his opinions. Though god knows why when he feels like he loses half his IQ whenever she’s near. 

Sansa also happens to be insanely hot. Off the charts hot. Long red hair, amazing blue eyes, a delicate pretty face. And her body has curves in all the right places, very attractive curves and her legs go on forever. 

Her body makes his body want to do things. It made his body do things. Things that he couldn't always control. Like now! Her sweat damp t.shirt was clinging to her still slightly heaving chest, her hair tousled and face flushed a gentle pink. He could feel the stirring of his arousal.

‘Don’t look, don't look, don't look,’ ran through his head like a mantra.

“That was such a good workout, Sandor. Although I feel disgusting, all sweaty and sticky. I’m going to need an extra long shower when I get in.”

Oh God! He was getting turned on. Arousing images flashed before his eyes. Rubbing his hands over her sweaty body… grabbing her ass as she raked her nails on his back… licking her neck and nibbling her earlobe… soaping her naked skin in the shower… his hands massaging her perky tits.

He just stared at her gormlessly dropping his towel onto her bag as his hands fumbled needlessly. He was busy trying not to look like he had been thinking what he had just been thinking, certain he was failing miserably. He willed his budding erection to remain at bay, or better still, go away completely.

“And that last incline was an absolute killer, the burn in my butt and thighs! I bet I’ll be walking like Bambi tomorrow,” she giggled.

He groaned internally. Did she do it on purpose? Her butt. Her thighs... he’d love to feel them wrapped round his waist squeezing him tightly...or his head shoved up between them inhaling her scent...tasting the silky soft skin of her folds. He’d give her a reason to walk like Bambi and it wouldn't be from a bloody spin class. 

His dick was definitely hard now. Then she bent down and picked up her bag giving him a prize view of her pert lycra clad ass.

“You’re a very bad man punishing me like that," she said flashing him a wide smile handing him back his towel. Their hands brushed and he nearly yelped out loud.

'Don't go there!’ he shouted at himself internally. 'Do not think about spanking her ass.' Too late.

Yeah. He was rock hard and straining uncomfortably against the seam of his underwear. He prayed silently that it wasn't half as visibly noticeable as it felt.

He needed her to shut up. Right now! He needed her to stop tweeting so he could haul his giant sized ass out of here pronto. 

“Yeah. Well. Bye,” he said snatching his towel and making a hasty exit. As he hurried down the corridor he congratulated himself on at least managing to speak words and was relieved that he didn't just run away screaming which was a seriously close call.

He had to get home now. He had pressing needs. Very pressing!

He crossed the busy foyer in record time and quickly angled his groin against the reception desk in an effort to hide his prominent bulge. He was scrawling his signature in the staff log book when a small, dry cough alerted him to Ms Tyrell's presence by his side.

That was all he needed! She looked a sweet, frail old lady with her diminutive five foot height and wrinkly skin, and one could be forgiven for assuming that she was here for the over 60’s yoga with that oddball Melisandre. But no. Olenna was a feisty firecracker, shrewd as they come and the darling of Bronn & Tormund’s MMA class.

“Hmmm, mmmmm I see that work out got your blood pumping just fine young man,” she said with a raised eyebrow whilst blatantly eyeballing his cock. With a wink she brushed closely behind him, very closely, so closely he’s sure she copped a feel of his ass as she did so. 

Mortified he slammed the book shut. Grabbing his stuff and holding it strategically to protect his modesty, he stalked out of the gym and across the car park to his truck. 

As always when horny and embarrassed he started to get angry. 

“Bloody fool,” he berated himself under his breath “acting like a green boy who's never seen a pretty girl before. One fucking bat of her lashes and you practically jizz your pants. For God’s sake get a bloody grip of yourself!”

Yes. That was exactly what he needed to do. Get a good long, hard grip in the shower. As he drove home his mind wandered.

Sansa. She was perfect. Sexy as fuck too. Her smile. Those delightful pouty, pink lips. He wanted to kiss those lips, nibble them. See if they did taste of cherries like he imagined...her lips sucking on a cherry, hollowing her cheeks as her tongue flicks around it. He groaned as his cock twitched uncomfortably. 

Now he was picturing her lips sucking on something else. Her beautiful blue eyes looking straight into his as she takes his cock into her warm, wet mouth…lips wrapped around him snugly as she takes more and more of his length...her nimble tongue flicking around his rim and over his slit to taste his precum. His cock was like steel now and throbbing, begging to be touched.

“Awwww come on!’ he shouted seeing the temporary three-way traffic lights change from green to red at his approach. Did the universe not appreciate how great his need had become? Taking a deep breath he tried to calm his fraying temper. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited, he tried very hard not to think about sucking on Sansa’s nipples.

“Hallelujah!” He said as the lights changed to green but the car in front didn't move. The driver must not have noticed.

“Why aren't you moving you fucking moron?” he fumed honking furiously at the stationary vehicle. In their fright they stalled. The lights turned back to red.

‘Fuck my life!’ he thought. 

This was bound to add at least fifteen minutes to his journey now and by extension the amount of time before he could empty his now presumably purple balls. 

Finally the lights changed again. Thankfully this time the driver was sure to pull away promptly without incident and thereafter his journey was plain sailing. 

He parked hastily on his drive and silently gave thanks for getting this far. Soon he could pleasure his dick to all the lewd thoughts he wanted in the privacy of his own home. But first; first he needed to navigate Mr Varys.

Mr. Varys was always lurking somewhere and he definitely did not want to be accosted by the head of the Neighbourhood Watch in his current state. The man had a creepy fascination with genitalia at the best of times. Personally, Sandor thought the safer neighbourhoods thing he operated was a load of bullshit. He went well beyond the expected role of even the most diligent of Neighborhood Watch co-ordinators. 

‘Just an excuse to get all up in everyone else's business, the nosy, bald cunt,’ thought Sandor. With relief he saw the coast was clear and got out of his truck as quickly and gracefully as a six foot six guy can and rushed inside.

Slamming his front door shut he exhaled a massive sigh of relief. Then he wasted no time and headed straight to the sofa, shoving his shorts and boxers down to his ankles in one well practiced, single handed move as he went. His other hand swiped magazines and newspapers into a heap on the floor, dropping his bag on top. Crashing down he immediately grabbed hold of his thick shaft and squeezed firmly. 

‘Ahhhh...Yes! Fuck yes!’ he moaned collapsing backwards, one foot still planted on the ground and flinging his other leg over the arm of the sofa. For a moment he just savoured the delicious relief that his firm grip brought without moving.

Immediately he thought of Sansa. His fantasies weren't always lewd. In fact more often than not he was more than content with innocent thoughts of her. Holding her, running his hands through her gorgeous long hair, sitting snuggled up watching TV, eating their favourite meals, laughing together. He wanted her in his life, in all ways. 

But tonight he was too tormented and aroused after that tortuous drive home, so he fast-forwarded to think about the physical desires she stirred in him. 

He imagined it wasn't his hands holding his thick, veiny cock but her pale dainty ones. She'd struggle to hold his full girth single handed he thought with pride. He didn't have much going for him in the looks department he knew, but his body was desirable to women. Tall, muscular and masculine with lots of dark body hair. He knew plenty of chicks dig that. Although it was a rare few who could get past his face to indulge and even then they were usually drunk. But Sansa. In his fantasies she was always stone cold sober, she always wanted him as much as he did her and she always looked him in the eyes as he fucked her.

He felt himself twitch, his cock’s way of asking for more stimulation. Slowly he dragged his hand up and then down his full length, teasing himself. He gently pressed the pad of his index finger into the sensitive knot on the underside of his cock, then brushed it up onto his sensitive cockhead where his slit was already sticky with precum. He already knew it would be, he’d felt it leaking with each throb as he’d sat holding his dick thinking of her hands. He gently spread it around sending sparks of pleasure down his shaft straight to his balls. 

Cupping his heavy balls in one hand he began to fondle them. Gently tugging and massaging them, his littlest finger just brushing that sensitive patch of skin behind his sac and before his ass. Spitting into the palm of his other hand he began to fuck himself. 

His hand moved firmly and steadily up and down his full length, twisting at the top to smooth his palm over his now swollen and sensitised cockhead. Lifting his ass up off the seat to thrust into his tight fist, lewd images assailed his mind.

He pictured her naked...firm breasts tipped with blush pink nipples... suckling and nibbling on those stiff, pointy teats extracting small whimpers of delight from her pretty mouth…running his hands up the insides of her thighs seeing gooseflesh raise as he goes...his fingers finding her folds hot and slippery, soaked in her arousal…teasing her entrance...pushing just the very tip of his middle finger inside her silky wet warmth...using his thumb and forefinger to tweak her clit...pushing harder and deeper into her tight, wet, warmth up to his knuckle...feeling her body writhe under him... hearing her moan his name beg him for more…

‘Fucking hell.’ The pressure in his balls was mounting, he could feel them drawing up ready to shoot his load. Furiously he fucked his fist in earnest moaning her name.

“Sansa, Sansa, Sansa.”

He’s going to cum he can feel it. He’s right there...right on the cusp of it surging up and spilling onto his stomach. Hastily he tries to use his chin to yank his t.shirt up and out the way.

Filthy, obscene images of Sansa covered in cum…ripping his cock from her pulsing cunt to squirt all over her tummy...her perky tits glistening in pearly droplets...her luscious mouth overflowing, dribbles escaping over her chin…his load slowly oozing out of her freshly pounded pussy...Sansa crying his name in ecstasy as she cums.

‘Fuuuuuuck!’ he groaned as he came with a powerful climax, thick white spurts of his seed splattering his tummy and hands. Spent he collapsed back. Breathing heavily he threw his arm over his sweaty brow, his mind blissfully blank and his limbs heavy and sated. 

He thought he ought to move and sort himself out, before he fell asleep where he was, half dressed and covered in a pool of rapidly crustifying cum.

'Now I really need a shower’ he thought with an amused huff. Reaching down and rummaging in his bag he grabbed his navy gym towel and mopped up his sticky mess. 

Heaving himself to his feet he headed through to the bathroom for a shower. 

****

Freshly showered and wearing clean sweats he headed out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen to fix himself some dinner. He had worked up an appetite he smirked to himself, feeling relaxed and satisfied.

He was just on his way through the lounge, stopping to pick up his gym gear as he went, when his text alert beeped. Grabbing his phone he was surprised to see it was Bronn. 

'What's that fucker want?’ he grumbled opening the text. Last time it had been a DIY favour that Bronn had been browbeaten by his girlfriend Margaery into doing and which he roped Sandor into like a mug. Something about high ceilings, him being the perfect height and it being safer to have stability when using power tools or some shit like that. Either way he had spent the afternoon painting ceilings and hanging curtain poles whilst Bronn watched the match with a beer. 

Bronn: Hey, really sorry to bother you Sandor, but I think you might have accidentally picked up my towel at the gym. A navy blue one with a red bird and my initial on the corner? I wouldn't normally bother but it was a gift from my mother, who as you know died. So I would like it back please. That's if you do have it. Thursday is fine. Thanks, bye.

He was confused. Why was Bronn, of all people, so concerned about a fucking towel? And hadn’t he said he never knew his parents, that he grew up in a kids home? Before he could ponder further there was another text alert.

Bronn: Oh it's Sansa by the way. Bronn is letting me borrow his phone. I left mine at home. So yeah, let me know about the towel. Sorry again. Thanks, bye.

His eyes widened in horror as he read. Sansa!

Instinctively shame flooded him. The way he had thought about her. She would be horrified. Disgusted. He had disrespected her by thinking of her in such a degrading manner. How would he face her on Thursday? One look at him and she’d know, the guilt would be written all over his face.

Then the penny dropped.

“Oh fuck. No! No,no,no,no,no!” he prayed. But a glance down at 'his’ crumpled navy towel in his hand showed him there that there was a little red bird peeping up at him, sweetly sitting atop the initial S. The towel which, now he came to think of it, was smaller and noticeably softer than his own.

‘She must use fabric softener,’ he thought dazedly as he processed the situation with growing horror. He looked in shame at the drying tell-tale white stains and the sad red bird which he had thoroughly smudged with his cum.

He could pretend that he didn't have it, he panicked. But she would be devastated, it was her dead mother's gift. He groaned. Not only had he spunked all over her towel, but a sentimental towel at that.

“FUCK MY LIFE!!!!!”

There's no way he can risk taking it to the launderette in this state with Varys spymaster ready to pounce at any given moment. The humiliation would be catastrophic. Nor could he chuck it in with the gym laundry. That would be even worse, it doesn't bare thinking about. No. He’ll have to handwash it. Thoroughly. He’ll need to buy fabric softener.

Resigned to his new evening chore he texted back.

Sandor: Yeah I’ve got your towel. Rest easy, you’ll get it back Little Bird

Bronn: Thanks Sandor. You’re the best xoxo

Oh if only you knew Little Bird.


	2. The Towel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sansa first joined Sandor's spin class she’d found him rude and intimidating and would even go so far as to say she was a little scared. But over time she had come to revise her opinion. 
> 
> Sandor couldn’t be more different from her usual type it was true. But as she had only ended up dating douchebags previously, perhaps a change was overdue.
> 
> Following a crazy impulse that came out of nowhere, Sansa decided that it was time to be a little more obvious than she usually dared.
> 
> This time we follow Sansa's POV and find out what she did with Sandor's towel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever I own nothing. I write purely for my pleasure and hopefully yours.
> 
> I'm still learning and would love your feedback :D

Crushed, Sansa watched Sandor practically run out of the training room.

‘Well that went well,’ she thought sarcastically. ‘He couldn’t have got out of here any faster if I’d suggested using his balls as Bronn’s MMA punching pads.’

Morosely Sansa entered the changing rooms, threw her bag down on the bench and dropped next to it, resting her head back against the wall. Sighing deeply she started ruminating on her appalling lack of skill with men. Or rather, one particular man...Sandor.

Sansa had been crushing on Sandor for _months_. 

When she first joined his spin class she’d found him rude and intimidating and would even go so far as to say she was a little scared. But over time she had come to revise her opinion. 

His unique brand of sarcasm and put downs actually turned out to be an oddly effective motivator for getting the best out of his attendees. He wasn’t nearly as grouchy as he made out either. She knew this for a fact, because despite grumbling about her ‘bird brain’ he always brought a spare bottle of water knowing she often forgot hers. He was also surprisingly attentive, getting to know her favourite tracks and including them regularly on his playlist. 

‘Protective,’ she remembered with a smile. Somehow, he had managed to get that creep, Petyr, who leered all over her and made unwelcome advances, banned from the entire gym not just his class. He also gave her a personal alarm which had been so sweet. 

Sandor was also super sexy. Tall and extremely well built, he had muscles on top of muscles. Long dark hair, the most beautiful silver-grey eyes and a scruff of beard. Unlike some of the women she had heard talking in the changing rooms, she was not repulsed by his scars at all. No. She felt they enhanced his unique ruggedness and the sense of excitement that she always felt around him. The man simply oozed testosterone and it aroused the hell out of her. Sandor definitely gave her a new appreciation for tall, dark and handsome. 

In an effort to woo him Sansa had worked up the courage to stay back after classes occasionally, to engage him in conversation and gently flirt. For weeks she had been trying to drop subtle hints, a suggestive comment here and there, drawing attention to her best features like her hair and eyes, praising his skill as an instructor, his strength, his intelligence. Anything to get him to take notice of her interest and see if he returned her affections. But so far, nothing.

Tonight, following some crazy impulse that came out of nowhere, Sansa decided that it was time to be a little more obvious than she usually dared. 

Confidently she had approached Sandor, she looked about as good as it was possible for anyone to look dripping in sweat, after one of his high intensity spin classes. She had checked her appearance in the mirror first to be sure. Her conversation had been bright and breezy, striking the perfect balance between friendly and loading it with just the right amount of sexual innuendo. He was bound to notice her interest now. Or so she had thought. 

‘Where do I go wrong?’ she sighed in frustration and defeat. Feeling the sting of tears starting to leak out the corner of her eyes, Sansa brushed them away angrily, trying not to let her disappointment overtake her as it was easily threatening to do. 

“Oh do cheer up my dear, it might never happen,” said Olenna tartly, as she marched out of the changing cubicle in her skin tight green lycra leggings with a gold leotard over the top. 

“It already has. Hasn’t. That’s the problem,” sighed Sansa.

Olenna looked at her expectantly, so Sansa decided to go by the old adage ‘a problem shared’ and unburdened herself in a rush of emotion.

“There’s this guy, this amazing guy, who I’m totally into but he doesn’t like me back. I’ve been flirting for weeks, even been pretty obvious about it, but there’s just no reaction. None.” said Sansa with utter dejection in her voice. “I think it’s time to face facts and accept that he’s just not into me.”

Olenna huffed, making pooh poohing motions with her hands as if swatting at an irritating fly.

“Oh there’s no need to look glum about that,” she stated confidently. “Goodness, I thought you were an intelligent young woman. A very _beautiful_ , intelligent young woman. Surely you can figure out how to bring a man to heel?” she said with a sly grin and giving Sansa a thorough once over, nodding her head appreciatively.

“But, as you seem to enjoy playing dumb let me enlighten you. If your current approach is too subtle you need to up your game! You are a wolf, are you not?” Olenna questioned suddenly.

Sansa nodded weakly, wondering where this was going.

“So hunt him!” said Olenna wagging a bossy finger at her. “Charm him. Flaunt yourself. Show him what you have to offer. Be bolder! ” she instructed.

“Bolder?” said Sansa quirking her eyebrow, wondering how on earth she could be bolder without being vulgar. But before she had time to process the thought any further Olenna continued. 

“Yes, bolder. But if that doesn’t work, there’s always that dishy young instructor I just ran into. Now there’s a fine specimen of the male of the species if ever I saw one. He would take your mind off anything. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with his equipment from what I saw,” 

Olenna paused to lick her lips “mmmmm yes, his blood was certainly reaching his vitals alright, and I took a good _loooong_ look,” she winked conspiratorially.

It was time for Sansa to put an end to this conversation. It had officially strayed beyond helpful and into the realm of awkward. She didn’t know who this ‘young man’ was but she felt sorry for anyone being the target of a sexually frustrated Olenna Tyrell.

*****

Sansa stood under the shower, letting it wash away the sting of rejection, visualising her worries swirling away down the drain along with the spent water. As her sense of peace restored, the sensation of the hot water pelting down began to feel good. Naturally, her mind turned to Sandor.

As she was massaging her lemon scented shampoo into her scalp she imagined it were Sandor’s hands instead. His long fingers rubbing her temples... his thumbs gently kneading into the nape of her neck... his fingers trailing through the length of her auburn strands, following them down to the tips that, when wet, reached her waist. 

Her own hands began to mirror what she imagined his to be doing to her. A poor imitation but the best she had to make do with. 

Sliding her hand around her waist to press her palm flat across her tummy, sensually rubbing circles there...trailing fingertips of the other hand up and down her neck and along her shoulder... just dipping far enough down her collarbone for the very tips of her fingers to graze the swell of her breast. She imagined him nuzzling his face into her neck and whispering in her ear how beautiful she is, how sexy, how much he wants her.

Her nipples were hard and she slowly moved her hand up from her tummy, over her ribcage to cup her breast and gently pinch and rub her nipple. A powerful surge of arousal shot through her, right down to her woman’s place. She wished Sandor were really here to run his large hands all over her body in truth.

She thought of Sandor’s body. Gripping onto his strong arms, digging her nails into the thick ropes of muscle there...his muscular thighs and how they flexed as he rode his spin bike… wondering how they would look flexing for _other_ activities… how he would be strong enough to support her weight in the shower so he could pin her against the wall...she could wrap her legs around his waist as he suckles at her breasts. 

One hand toyed with her breasts as the other lazily ran the length of her side, over her hip, inching lower and across to stroke the soft skin of her inner thigh, before commencing its return journey. Her breathing was coming in shallow gasps now and her body was thrumming in arousal. Touching herself like this, thinking of Sandor, it was so deliciously naughty it heightened her excitement.

She imagined running her fingers and tongue over his stomach and chest. If the smattering that peeped out the neck of his t.shirt was an indicator, it was covered in dark chest hair. Sometimes she felt a near overwhelming urge to rip his top off and discover the truth of the situation for herself. Would he have a trail leading down to his...

‘No! Stop right there,’ Sansa commanded herself, desperately trying to rein in her wayward thoughts before she got carried away.

But it was too late. She was already worked up and her body was aching for release. One hand snaked down over her auburn curls to find herself wet with arousal. Moaning quietly at the sudden spark of delicious friction Sansa slid her fingers over her silky folds, spreading her wetness around. Feather light she circled her clit whilst her other hand massaged her breasts and teased her nipples. 

“Ahhhh Sandor,” she moaned quietly her finger gently pinching and rubbing her nipple, wishing instead it were his lips sucking, wanting desperately to feel the heat of his tongue lathe and suckle on the puckered teat. Maybe a gentle bite. Yes! He seemed like he would like a little roughness. Gods the thought made her pussy pulse with want. 

Her finger was pressing and circling her clit more urgently and slipping over her dripping folds. God, so much did she want it to be his fingers exploring her hot, wet cunt. Just thinking of him brought out a crude, animalist desire in her and she loved it. Steadily she rocked her hips against the palm of her hand in a steady rhythm as the first pangs of her orgasm began to build.

But she wanted more. Sandor would be able to give her more, she knew. He was a big guy, it would make sense for him to be in proportion. Sansa imagined his cock. A thick, long shaft, dark hair at the base and heavy balls. Her other hand quickly left her breast to join its partner...a brief pause before slowly pressing forth one finger into her searing, wet, heat with a satisfied groan 

“Saaaandooor” she gasped. She wanted his cock so bad. To take time worshipping it with hands and mouth...even feeling him spill and taste his cum… but right now all she can imagine is how good it would feel, him entering her in one forceful push… filling her up… thrusting in and out reaching all the spots that felt so good. 

Her first finger was quickly joined by a second and she started pumping them in and out of her dripping cunt, fucking herself in earnest, imagining Sandor taking her hard and fast right here against the shower wall...his butt flexing as he rammed himself deep inside her… arms caging her as he braced himself on the wall... his head at her neck whispering lewd praises to her...how good her cunt felt...how tight and wet...how he wanted to fill her with his cum. 

‘Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!’ she panted as she climbed higher towards her ecstasy. Her other fingers were playing urgently with her clit pushing her towards the cliff edge. She could feel the surge of her climax building, she was almost there… just a little harder… almost… a little faster… deeper… almost...almost...yes...oh...oh...

“AHHHH, Ahhh. Sandor. Yes!” she cried out not caring if someone heard as her cunt spasmed and contracted in pleasure.

Consumed by bliss Sansa wasn't sure if moments or hours passed as she tumbled from the most intense high she had ever had. Sandor had just made her come harder than Joffrey or Harry ever had and he hadn't even touched her! 

Slowly she eased her fingers out, teasing the last pulses of pleasure from her over sensitised parts. Limp and sated, her body slid down to sit on the floor and let the hot water wash over her as she tried to gather her wits together. 

Finally, realising she had spent far too long in here, Sansa reached for her towel.

‘Wait. No. This isn’t right,’ she frowned ‘it’s all scratchy… and massive,’ she thought as she unfurled the largest towel she had ever seen. It swamped her.

‘Oh no,’ she realised with dismay. She must have handed Sandor her towel by mistake. Which means he must have mine! She would need to get that back. But right now she had a more pressing problem, what to do about getting dry?

Standing there, dripping wet Sansa pondered her options. She couldn’t possibly use his towel, it felt like such a gross invasion of privacy.

‘Really?!’ she huffed at herself seeing the irony. Considering how she had just been mentally using Sandor’s body for her own sexual gratification, using his towel seemed the least of her sins.

Rapidly getting cold she didn’t see any other options. She was going to _have_ to use it as she didn’t fancy getting dressed wet and driving home damp. 

Slowly she lifted the towel to her nose and sniffed. It was a clean, non-descript detergent smell... and him. Wrapping it around herself, Sansa felt comforted as if it were Sandor’s arms themselves holding her. Holding her after making mind-blowing love.

'No. You masturbated. Sandor would be horrified if he had any inkling of what went on in here. It was inappropriate and degrading. Just because he's a man doesn't make it ok.’

Quickly she rubbed her back, arms and legs, studiously avoiding all of her intimate places. She simply couldn’t! There was absolutely no way she could dry her breasts and... lady bits... on Sandor’s towel. He had used it. Perhaps on his... you know. Embarrassed Sansa dithered for a moment before the sheer absurdity of the situation hit her.

‘For goodness sake Sansa!’ she chastised herself ‘you just got yourself off pretty darn well thinking about it, surely you can mentally repeat the word… Cock! There!’ she thought. ‘Yes, in all probability Sandor has most likely dried his cock with this towel… and his balls. Oh hells.’ She could feel herself blushing. It was ridiculous.

‘Oh just dry your bloody cooch and be done with it,’ she thought angrily at herself, promptly doing so before she could change her mind. She tried really hard to block all thoughts of Sandor’s private region from her mind but it was difficult, especially when she used it _there_. 

It was like they were having sex. Sex by proxy. With a towel. 

‘It’s finally happened,’ she thought. ‘I’ve actually driven myself insane with this stupid crush.’

*****

In bed that night Sansa thought about what Olenna had said.

'Be bolder!’

Thoughtful, attentive, protective and all kinds of sexy, Sandor was perfect. Just thinking about him turns her on like never before. If she actually got opportunity to try half of what she imagined she could die a very happy woman.

But as much as a passionate, steamy, sex based affair sounded good, and God did it ever, she also wanted more. To talk together, go on outings, watch movies, cook together even argue over chores. She wanted a relationship. 

'Be bolder!’

Sandor couldn’t be more different from her usual type it was true. But as she had only ended up dating douchebags previously, perhaps a change was overdue. A proper relationship, based on mutual respect and attraction. The opposite of cruel, controlling Joffrey and indifferent, shallow Harry.

Sansa decided it wouldn't hurt to have one more shot at impressing Sandor. What did she have to lose? He couldn’t be any less interested than he was currently, and who knows, perhaps putting herself right out there, being bold, might just reap the rewards she wanted. 

'Be bolder!’

But could she do it? Well there was only one way to find out. Only one thing was for sure right now, Sandor was perfect boyfriend material and Sansa had a newfound determination to make sure that he became hers.


	3. The exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa forges ahead with her plan.
> 
> Sandor is in melt down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for commenting and kudos you are all wonderful and making this an absolute joy. 
> 
> I can't give you any candy, so have this as a Halloween treat instead. 
> 
> I've tried switching between POV in this chapter, let me know if it works :) 
> 
> BTW - I know nothing about spin class or exercise clothes, just blagging my way through.
> 
> I own nothing I write for my pleasure and yours.
> 
> *****

Sansa pressed her body flat against the wall, allowing just her head to poke to the side and peer through the glass panel on the doors into the spin studio. She repeated this move several times, careful not to be seen. This stage was critical in order for her plan to succeed and she had arrived early to allocate enough time specifically to this task. Reconnaissance. 

‘Spying. That’s what you’re doing. You might as well call a spade a spade,’ she told herself. 

But whatever she called it, the truth remained. Only through watching Sandor and assessing the situation carefully could she determine her best strategy. She felt like a general surveying the enemy before battle. With a wry smile she thought that might not be a bad analogy. 

He was alone, that was good. She would be more at ease without an audience. But he did seem to be slightly agitated, judging by the way he was pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair. He looked like he was mumbling to himself. That wasn’t so good. 

‘I’ll just have to find a way to lighten his mood,’ she thought saucily. Her mind immediately shot to the several bouts of ‘stress relief’ that she had indulged in since Monday evening and her discovery that she had custody of his towel. 

‘No! You are to _stick to the plan!_ ’ she firmly instructed herself. Going in there flustered and aroused was _not_ part of her carefully thought out plan. She was to be sexy and confident. Her goal was to entice and arouse him with her looks and body, whilst at the same time impressing him with her charm, wit and and intelligence. 

When said like that it sounded easy, but Sansa could feel the nerves squirming in the pit of her tummy. But there was no need, she reassured herself. She was well prepared thanks to the lengthy beautification process she had commenced some hours earlier. 

Well in truth the whole process had begun yesterday when, at Margaery’s recommendation, she had visited a salon for a wax. She wanted a longer term solution to the irritation of shaving had been her excuse. The truth? Given her skimpy sports wear she wanted to be certain that her legs and underarms were silky smooth. As for the intimate part of the wax…

Even though she didn’t intend on being intimate with Sandor so soon, even if he was amenable to her advances, she figured it never harmed to be prepared. Should he decide to rip her tiny shorts from her body, shove her legs up round his ears and eat her out like a man starving, she did not want to be embarrassed by errant body hair. 

‘Errant hair, how naive I was,’ she thought. The beautician, Randa, had waxed hairs from places she didn’t even realise she had hair. Over and over, fabric cotton strips had been pulled away covered in auburn, the waxer’s gentle fingers reaching _everywhere_. With a blush she recalled her shocked squeak and the burn of her flaming humiliation as she had even prised open her nether cheeks to wax _there_. All that was left was a neat strip on her mound. 

The pain barely registered because she had been preoccupied with thoughts of Sandor the whole time. Wondering whether he liked a woman waxed down there… if it turned him on to look upon a neat strip and bare folds. She had discovered for herself that when aroused her fingers moved over her hairfree lips with even greater ease and the reduced friction heightened her sensitivity. Would his fingers slip and slide about as they stroked and probed her? Would it feel as good for him as it did her? For his tongue as it licks across her slit in a hot, wet stripe. 

As the waxer professionally and gently touched her intimate parts, she realised to her horror, that her thoughts were arousing her. Thinking of Sandor whilst another's fingers were _there_ was _wrong_ she knew, but yet she found the whole experience strangely erotic. She would never be able to return.

Determinedly pushing such thoughts from her mind Sansa, brought her focus back to the present. Her plan was solid and all she needed to do was follow it through. The time for nerves was done and to her surprise she realised she was excited! She was eager to see how he would react.

‘Be bold!’ she reminded herself, using the now familiar mantra as a sort of talisman, or perhaps, prayer. 

Holding her head high, chest pushed ever so slightly forward she took a fortifying breath and entered the studio in a burst of confidence.

********

“Hey Sandor!” he heard Sansa call as the doors to the studio swung open with a bang. 

Looking up to greet her his words died in his throat. Mouth hanging open he stared, absorbing the full impact of Sansa walking towards him. Her hips were swaying in a way he had never noticed before and her hair was glorious. A fire halo surrounding the most beautiful goddess he had ever seen. 

‘Wow! Seven fucking hells...just wow. What the? Why is she? Her tits… Gods her _tits_.’ 

Thoughts slammed into his consciousness one after another, like a runaway train gathering pace and not giving pause for answer. He was staring, he knew he was staring, but he just couldn’t stop. He felt the tell tale tingle of blood rushing to his groin.

‘She’s forgotten her top, that’s underwear,’ he determined deciding that nothing that scanty could possibly pass for sports wear. 

‘What do I say? Where do I look? Look away you buggering fool. Anywhere. Just stop staring. Look down.’ 

He tried to pull his eyes away, but they were loathe to obey. Then at last, his brain recovered. But for some reason it decided to latch onto the last of his thoughts, and his eyes rapidly dropped southwards. That was a mistake he realised as they settled on the bare expanse of her midriff, legs and peach enclad...

‘Holy Maiden, Mother and Crone her ass! Look up, look up, look up,’ he told himself in a rising panic. 

His underwear felt inexplicably tight. Fuck! The sight of her, practically _naked_ , and those tits literally made his mouth water. He promptly snapped his mouth closed lest some drool actually escape.   
His other head had taken over his thought processes. He wanted to grab her ass, pull her tight up against him and stick his face right between her tits, licking and nibbling into her juicy cleavage. His cock twitched at the thought of rubbing his hard length against her crotch indecently. Just like a randy dog on an ankle. 

‘How appropriate,’ he thought with a smirk, given his colleagues nickname him ‘the Hound’.

Precisely three seconds. That was how long it had taken from Sansa arriving to him sporting a boner. His brain was actually melting, it felt like popping candy.

“I’ve got your towel here,” she said sweetly, holding it out towards him.

He snatched it off her, eager to hide his growing embarrassment. It was like being fucking thirteen years old again and unable to control the buggering thing.

“Yours,” he growled thrusting hers back at her in exchange.

“Did you wash it?” she asked as she lifted it to her nose and sniffed, “it smells different,” she blushed, lowering her lashes.

Was she blushing? Why was she blushing? He was the one rocking a hard-on that was growing bigger by the second. He just nodded.

“Did you only discover the mix up after showering too? It wasn’t until I was dripping wet and reached for my towel that I realised. If I’d had another option I wouldn’t have used it... But I was getting cold and had to rub myself dry,” she said breathily her fingers twisting a copper curl playfully.

‘OH GODS!’ the imagery was too much. She had been _dripping wet_. In the shower. _Naked_. She had _rubbed herself all over_ with his towel. It had touched her breasts… naked breasts… her thighs… oh fuck… did she dry her… he definitely shouldn’t take that line of thought any further. Not just now anyway.

“So?” she prompted tilting her head, just like the Little Bird he called her. Exposing her slender neck, almost as an offering. It was begging him to mark the pale flesh with stubble burn and bruises from rough kisses.

He remembered that she had asked something. What had she asked? Oh yes, the towel. Why did he wash it? Why _did_ he wash it? Then the memory hit him and instinctively he clutched even harder at his towel protectively positioned over his manhood.

“I, errr… I... it was…errr” he stammered floundering like a fish out of water. 

‘Think! Think Gods dammit,’ he thought desperately as she waited, looking at him expectantly. He needed to say something, anything, a lie. Anything but the truth would do.

“I spilled something on it,” he blurted in a rush. 

‘Fucking hells, something better than that you moron,’ he groaned internally berating his brain for refusing to co-operate. 

Sansa stepped even closer, right up into his personal space virtually pressing her body flush up against his. He felt his pulse begin to race and his breathing quicken. She was so close. He could see the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks and the darker sapphire flecks edging her iris. They were even more intensely blue up this close and he noticed her lashes were long and thick as she blinked slowly at him. He felt himself starting to pant and become lightheaded. It must be because half of his blood supply was in his pants. 

Her eyes were focused intently on him. Glittering with mischief and something he couldn’t place. He was rooted to the spot. It was as if they were lasering through him, plucking his thoughts right out of from where he had buried them, exposing every lewd detail of _exactly_ what he had spilled on her towel and how. 

He could feel himself burning up. She was overwhelming his senses, her lemony scent, her body and…

‘Seven hells!’ he almost shouted at the crackle of electricity that thrummed through him as she lightly stroked his bicep with a dainty hand. Her perfectly manicured nails raking ever so slightly against his skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. Then her fingers wrapped round his muscle giving a gentle, but definite squeeze, her tongue flicking out to lick her plump lip before biting down.

“What did you spill on it Sandor?” she questioned, her voice a seductive purr.

‘She knows,’ he thought in panic. 

He emitted a single, strangled sounding squeak, like someone had trodden on a guinea pig.

********

So far her plan was working a treat.

Returning his towel had been the first hurdle she had to overcome. To return it as quickly and painlessly as possible. Hiding her embarrassment would be difficult, she had known. Every time she thought about that damn towel she couldn’t help but be reminded of what she had done in the shower and her earth shattering orgasm. Pressing her thighs together she felt a delicious twinge of pleasure.

But it couldn't have gone better she reflected. 

Taking Olenna’s advice to heart she had attired herself in the most revealing sports wear she could find in order to ‘flaunt’ her assets. Peach skin tight cycle shorts that were in truth little more than glorified hotpants hugged the curve of her ass to perfection. The waistband sat well underneath her belly button and the shorter leg showed more of her thigh than ever before. When partnered with her matching sports bra she was showing a very generous swathe of her toned abdomen. 

The bra revealed a daring amount of cleavage for someone about to take a spin class, and instead of her usual solid back piece, there were just two thin stips of fabric. Despite this, she had taken the brave decision to forego wearing her usual loose fitting vest over the top. 

Her hair was shining and carefully styled into soft tumbling waves. Straying from her usual french plait she had instead swept it up into a loosely tied ponytail. She had even allowed a few wispy tendrils to come loose and brush around her face. The simplicity of her look belied the hours of effort that it had taken to tame her curly locks. 

Her makeup looked effortless and flawless. Again not betraying that she had spent hours watching online tutorials and practicing shading and blending. She had experimented with colours and instead of her usual smokey plum eyeliner and brown mascara, she had decided to ‘be bolder,’ and had opted for intense black. Even she had to admit that the effect was dramatic, adding depth and sparkle to her blue eyes. 

She was thrilled with his reaction. He hadn’t known where to look that much was obvious from the way his eyes had furtively darted about. His jaw hanging open, fidgety hands and awkward manner. 

He had definitely noticed her, and from her reading of the situation, he had liked what he had seen. It had been a massive confidence boost. 

Deciding to ‘be bolder’ still she had pushed herself up against him. Even now she cannot fathom how she had managed to keep herself together. His scent had been intoxicating and when she gripped his arm the solid muscle had nearly made _her_ squeak.

When she stared into his eyes and teased him… thankfully he had lost the power of speech to an even greater degree than usual. 

‘He’s so cute when he blushes,’ she thought with a smile. She hoped to see more of that. 

‘Yes things are going _very_ well indeed,’ she congratulated herself, feeling perhaps just a tiny bit smug.

********

The sudden influx of people had been the only thing that had rescued him from imminent disaster, Sandor realised.

He needed to focus, otherwise things were going to get embarrassing very quickly.

‘Looking like that should be illegal,’ he grumped as he set up the sound system. The first track was ‘pump it’ he noted with irony.

Riding a bike with a pole in his pants was soon to become a pressing problem if he didn't get himself under control. 

‘Think unsexy thoughts… Olenna in a hot tub,’ 

No it wasn't enough. All he could do was envisage Sansa in bubbly, frothy water, naked.

‘Olenna in a hot tub naked… Bronn naked… Bronn and Olenna in a hot tub naked.’

“Fucking hells!” he shouted to the shocked murmur of his class as they began warm up stretches.

Still, Sansa would not leave his mind. Him and her naked together in a hot tub… sipping champagne… her straddling him… pouring champagne over her chest for him to lick off.’

He absolutely could not allow himself to look at her. Or think about her. Or look at her reminded himself.

Right. He could do this.

“So let’s get you warmed up and ready?”

********

Sansa allowed her mind to wander. 

Sandor had been outlining the lesson plan; high intensity bursts based on a mountainous terrain, lots of hill climbs and high resistance. 

‘Riding with Sandor on a secluded mountain trail, the scent of pine heady in the air… a sudden rain shower soaking them through… taking refuge in a cave… stripping off their wet clothes.’

“So let’s get you warmed up and ready?” his deep voice instructed the class. 

A log fire, soft furs and each other’s body heat to keep warm. She groaned internally. This was going to be a long lesson if she couldn’t focus.

Sansa climbed onto her bike and began with a steady pace, but almost immediately was alerted to the alarming lack of support in her sports bra. With a pang of worry she could feel her breasts bouncing about rather dangerously, and this was only the warm up. She had a bad feeling about this.

She decided the best course of action was not to push quite as hard as usual, for fear that she would come out of her top. No one would know she was slacking, and if it prevented a wardrobe malfunction all the better. Yes, that would work. 

********

His class were coming into their second hill climb and he decided to push them a little harder. A few seemed to be slacking and he didn’t tolerate slackers.

“Right, I’m not going to go easy on you. If you want a piece of piss you’d best go join some hippy yoga group. I mean to make you sweat, make your muscles ache for relief. You’ll beg me for mercy. I want to hear you cry out, shouting my name in…

His mind had wandered off the mountain track right into the woods, where he was imagining ripping those peach bloody shorts off Sansa Stark and ramming her raw against a tree. 

An awkward cough alerted Sandor to the fact that all eyes had whipped up to him in a mixture of intrigue, horror and in Sansa’s case...something else entirely.

“Agony!” He shouted. “Cursing my name, in agony. Totally in agony. Yeah, you’re all going to curse me in agony!”

‘Fuck my life,’ he thought. ‘I need to get a grip...not again’ he groaned.

********

“Faster… faster... that's good... keep that pace… use your thighs… can you feel the burn?”

Sansa was having difficulty focussing.

“Let's climb together… build it up… pump those legs… faster, faster!”

_Everything_ Sandor said seemed laden with sexual innuendo to her. 

“Harder... ride harder!” He commanded, his body glistening in a sheen of sweat. 

Sansa wanted to ride him harder… their sweaty bodies slapping together… grinding herself down onto his cock… thrusting her breasts into his face for him to suck on… his hands gripping her hips and slamming her rudely down his full length...

‘What is wrong with me?’ she lamented ‘I’ve not been this bad before. It’s the towel.’ she blamed irrationality ‘It's the only explanation.’ 

“Right time for me to push hard, really hard now. I’m going to really test your limits.” 

Sansa groaned to herself and focussed all her effort on pedalling furiously. The harder she pedalled the more the saddle of the bike was rubbing against her nub in a delightful, sinful way. Gods, she could totally get herself off if she kept this up. 

The thought of doing so in front of Sandor was a massive turn on and she felt herself getting wet. It was exciting, it was naughty. Imagining his silver eyes watching her writhe about as she ground her cunt down against the seat, taking her pleasure. Letting him hear her needy, breathy moans grow into guttural cries as she fell apart. Gods it excited her, it sang to her inner voyeur. 

She wished there wasn’t anyone else in the class. Given her confidence and arousal levels at this moment she might just try it. She imagined him noticing what she was doing and his dick growing hard in response. 

‘What would he do if I called out his name as I came?’ she wondered ‘would he rip my shorts off and lap up my juices?’ 

She ground down hard at that thought and had to bite her lip this time to stifle her moan. She looked up and her blue eyes met his silver causing a violent throb of arousal deep inside her. She felt like a fraying rope about to snap. 

This time she actually did moan and immediately felt her cheeks burn. 

********

Sandor couldn’t help but notice her tits gently jiggling. They looked divine. Perky and firm, perfect for squeezing. He silently thanked all the Gods that she had decided to wear such a ridiculous top because it gave him a prize eyeful. 

Fuck, but they looked good bouncing and swaying as she pedalled. He really, really wanted to jiggle them. Fucking hells. He was finding it hard to concentrate. _Very_ hard. Then, she only went and increased her pace. Now, instead of the gentle bobbing motion, they were jiggling like crazy. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. They were defying gravity. He was hypnotised. 

Her legs pumped harder and harder and she was grinding her hips in this curious way as she did so. Each delicious jiggle inched them closer to the edge of that...top?... and he actually wondered if he might witness his first ever nip slip. 

“Right, time to jiggle your gears” he instructed. 

Cursing internally at his preoccupation he took a deep breath and tried really hard to drag his mind back to the lesson. 

Sneaking a glance in Sansa’s direction, to check whether she had noticed how odd he was being. _Oh fuck_... 

Their eyes met and she let out this funny little moan. Her face was flushed, her eyes glazed and she was biting her lip in a maddening way. She looked like she was in the midst of sex, about to come…

‘Or pass out,’ his professional brain kicked in helpfully.

‘Fuck, say something. Something sensible. _Don’t_ act like a pervert,’ he mentored himself.

“Are you alright Sexsa? You seem pretty flushed?” 

********

Jelly legged and chest heaving, Sansa slid down off the spin bike, jarring her ankle awkwardly as she did so. 

‘Way to go Sansa.’ she thought, hoping that Sandor hadn’t noticed her graceless dismount. 

She wasn’t sure if it was the intense muscle work out Sandor had just put them through, or the ridiculous state of arousal she had worked herself into, but she felt unsteady on her legs.

High on a giddy rush of post exercise endorphins and hormonal flush, Sansa felt euphoric. Full of confidence, and certain of her sex appeal she was determined to forge ahead with her plan. 

She was pretty certain that Sandor was interested. He had hardly taken his eyes off her all lesson and he had clearly been as distracted as she had. Now all she had to do was impress him with her wit and charm.

‘Be bold!’ Sansa reminded herself.

Ignoring the pain in her ankle she attempted to saunter sexily over to him, swaying her hips seductively as she went. Walking right up to him she unleashed her brightest, most beguiling smile, hitting him with the full force of her blue eyes.

“I feel like a right hot mess after that Sandor. How do I look?” she purred at him grasping his forearm and taking a swig of water.

'draw his eyes to your lips and throat...hope they want to wander downwards and notice your cleavage’ was her intention. 

But when she felt the muscle in his arm tense, her nipples hardened in response and she gulped some water the wrong way. She started spluttering and hacking violently, water dribbling down her chin and front as she gasped for air like a floundering trout.

When she recovered and resumed eye contact, Sandor was gaping at her with a horrified expression. Without a word, he turned and ran from the room. He didn’t even take his stuff.

Struck dumb Sansa just stood there. That was... Unexpected. 

Stunned and more than a little perplexed she gathered her things and started to walk out. Then, to her mortification she caught sight of herself in the training room mirrors full on for the first time since the start of the lesson. The impact was not lost on her. 

A sheen of sweat glistened on her arms, legs, neck, chest, and face. Her face! Her carefully applied make up was apparently NOT sweatproof. Black mascara smudged her eyes. Blusher, her coughing fit and the natural flush of exercise had combined to turn her tomato cheeked. Her highlighter had melted into bronzer and foundation giving her skin a luminosity to rival the Blackpool illuminations. A wild ginger frizz framed her face, stuck up with sweat, ringlets springing out at random intervals. Her sexy, but badly suited, sports clothes betrayed their uselessness as almost one full breast was hanging out of her tiny bra. You could even see the top of her nipple. She cringed. She wanted to cry.

In short she looked like a badly made up clown about to be done for indecent exposure. Standing there staring at herself she gave way to the tears that had been building for weeks and she started to cry. 

‘I don’t think this was the bold impression Olenna was implying I aim for,’ she sobbed.

********

When faced with Sansa at the end of the lesson he had broken, literally. His mind capable of only one thought. 

‘TITS...TITS...TITS...TITS...TITS...TITS...TITS...TITS...TITS...TITS...TITS...TITS...TITS...TITS...TITS’’ 

It had scrolled through his head like a flashing neon sign.

Sandor wasn’t proud of himself for running. He knew it wasn’t a manly thing to do. 

But if he had stayed there in her presence for one second longer, he would have ripped her Gods damned top off and sucked that peeping brown nipple into his mouth, the rest of the class be damned. 

‘Hot mess! Fucking hell,’ he snorted wiping his hand over his face as if to clear away the image burned into his retina.

She was hot alright and boy would he like to make a mess of her. She had looked thoroughly fucked and it had driven his arousal through the roof. 

He grabbed his dick and started stroking. This was going to become a regular thing after spin class he could sense. At least this time he didn’t have her towel.

Shit! He didn’t have _his_ towel.

“Fuck my life!”

********

Thoroughly depressed Sansa sat in her pyjamas, snuggled in bed, bingeing on a tub of ice cream, trying to block the disaster from her memory.

Her carefully thought out plans of seduction lay in tatters. Literally. Peach and black ruins of the sexy, but clearly impractical, sports bra decorated her bathroom floor.

In her hurry to be rid of the offending garment, her perfectly manicured nail had torn clear through the flimsy material. Twisting and wriggling in frustration through a blur of tears, she had felt the strap snap. As if to add insult to injury, it pinged up to flick into her already tear swollen eye, leaving it even more bloodshot.

Her ankle was sore and swollen. Her breasts ached, suffering the after effects from the lack of proper support. She was surprised that she didn’t sport a shiner, her tits had been flailing about that wildly. Of course that’s the reason she had practically exposed herself to Sandor and scared him off for good. 

Seven hells! She had practically poked his eye out with her nipples. No wonder the guy ran.

‘Fuck my life’ thought Sansa in an uncharacteristic curse.


	4. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor is a hot mess.
> 
> Sansa mopes.
> 
> A memorable confrontation for all involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely feedback, you are making the whole experience a real joy.
> 
> Big thanks to LadyCleganeoftheNorth for the inspirational comment re thigh chafage and fire in her pants :D 
> 
> As always I own nothing.

********

Sansa hadn't been at class for a week now and he was worried. 

It wasn't like her.  For almost a year she had been reliable as clockwork.  Always turned up a bit early, bright and happy… and without her water bottle he thought with a fond smile.  He didn’t mind though, despite his teasing.  He liked taking care of her, even if it was only a simple thing like having spare water.

‘Or protecting her from perverts,’ he remembered with a flash of anger.  He remembered how Baelish had her cornered against the mirrors, leaning in far too close, sniffing at her, whispering, his hands reaching to where no one's had a right to stray.  He had seen red. 

The distress evident in her blue eyes and the tautness of her body language called to him on a primal level.  Protect!  It had taken every ounce of control for him not to rip the bastard limb from limb.

In hindsight it was perhaps a good thing Bronn and Tormund had intervened when they did.  Otherwise he’d be doing 15 - 20 in some shitty 6x6 cell hundreds of miles away from his Little Bird and then who would look after her? 

'A bloody nose was the least that creep deserved.  Seven help _anyone_ who _ever_ tries to hurt her,’ he thought angrily, clenching his fist into a tight ball.  He needed to calm down.  He was getting agitated and he needed to show Sansa that he was more than a brute.

Or a horny pervert.

Sitting here on his couch he remembered the last time he had seen her a week ago and how he had to rush home to take care of himself.  _Again_.  He had even managed to make _himself_ blush as he had taken his post workout shower.  Which had turned into a work out all of its own.

But he couldn’t help himself.  She was so Gods damned incredibly sexy. She had no idea what she did to him.

His blood had already been pumping from the workout and then seeing her stood there, looking like _that_ …

It was a wonder he hadn’t given into his base instincts right then and there, pushing her up against the mirrors and fucking the shit out of her. 

All lesson he had been tormented by erotic thoughts.  That get up she had worn to torture him... her tits jiggling... the sheen of sweat glistening on her skin… those little moans…

Gods the noises he would like to hear her make… begging for his cock… crying out for more… harder, faster, deeper... clawing his back her hot, pants loud in his ear… moaning as she writhed and undulated in bliss… the wet sounds of her pussy as he rammed in and out…

When did he start touching his cock?  Ahh fuck it, he was too far gone.

He imagined her being so turned on she would even ask him to touch her ass, a delightful burn of shame across her cheeks… his finger sliding through her juices to stroke over the tight puckered hole… her sharp intake of breath as she gently pushed herself against his finger… a tiny whimper, quickly followed by a guttural moan as the resistance eased just a fraction... enough just to allow the very tip of his finger entry to her forbidden hole...

His cock fair throbbed at that thought, sticky precum oozing from his tip in copious amounts.  He felt his sac begin to tighten and draw up against him as the beginnings of his orgasm took hold.

Her crudely begging him ‘fill me with your cum’...  guttural cries as she came… his name falling from her lips as her cunt clenched, milking every last drop from him… her ass tight and pulsing around his finger.

His orgasm rushed upon him in blinding pulses of pleasure… Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!

He was covered in little pools of white fluid, all over his top and lower abdomen.   Fucking hell, he had squirted so hard to thoughts of her ass. 

He should burn for the things he imagined doing to her.  _Wanted_ to do to her!

Bloody hells, if he kept this up the muscles in his right arm would soon be disproportionately over developed.

 

*********

 

Tonight should be her spin class but instead Sansa was sat at home flicking disinterestedly through the TV channels.

She had called the gym to cancel, feigning her injured ankle as her reason.  It was a lie.  A big, fat lie.  She was a coward.  Too scared to face Sandor after ‘the incident’.

Every time she thought about it she cringed.  He could see her actual nipple, she groaned in frustration.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to see her nipples, she really, really did.  But not all sweaty and disgusting, in front of the spin class whilst she looked like a demented clown.

Her emotions had been all over the shop this past week.   

She had swung from utter depression; convinced that she would end up single forever, a crazy cat lady, destined to die alone only to be found days later being eaten by her cats.

To forced optimism;  emulating her sister’s upbeat, ‘take no shit’ attitude she convinced herself she was a strong, confident woman capable of winning Sandor.  All she needed was time, patience and the right approach.

Whilst at other times she would try to convince herself that she was over Sandor entirely and that there were plenty more fish in the sea.  What she needed was a night out with her friends and to put herself out there.

In short, she was an emotional mess.

She regretted her decision to follow Olenna's advice wholeheartedly.  That was the reason she was in this mess after all.  Following her stupid advice to ‘be bold’ and to ‘flaunt’ herself.  She cringed again as the memories resurfaced.

Instead of impressing him with her charm and wit, and this in turn leading to super hot sexy times, it had ended in her utter humiliation.  And Sandor… instead of his usual indifference he had actually ran away.  Not that she blamed him.

‘I looked like I belonged on the set of ‘IT’ not spin class.  Hot bloody mess indeed!’ she thought.

Sansa was in no doubt that it was time to admit defeat as far as her plan was concerned.  ‘Operation Woo Sandor’ was officially terminated.

 

********

 

Sansa hadn’t been at class for two weeks and by now he was more than worried. 

He had tried texting her several times but she hadn’t replied.  To any of them.

Seven hells he missed her. 

Bronn had said she had kept calling to say her ankle was injured.  He hoped she was ok and it was nothing serious.  Why wouldn’t she answer his texts to let him know she was alright?

Something was wrong and he needed to find out what so he could fix it.

‘AHHHH! What is going on?  Why isn't she coming to class anymore?’ he tormented himself going over and over the same ground in his head.

But if he sent anymore messages he would fall into the realm of stalker and that was the last thing he wanted.  Creepy old man was not the impression he wanted to give.  

‘You’ve got to get a grip or you’re going to fuck this up.  If you haven't already,’ he thought. 

He knew it was something to do with him, the way he had run that day. But why and what to do about it was driving him slowly crazy.   Perhaps he needed to explain.  But what would he say?  That his restraint had been holding by a thread and he had to run for her own protection.  That sounded crazy even to him.

He really, really missed her.  Everything about her.

He had to do something.  Talk to her, face to face.  He knew he was woefully inept at attempting such a task but he didn’t know what else to try.  He needed to tell her how he felt.  The truth of his feelings, or he would never be able to live with his regrets.

It wasn't that he feared ending up a lonely, grouchy old man whose only friends were a bottle in a brown bag and his right hand. That future had never bothered him before Sansa.

No, it was that Sansa had opened his heart and mind to another possibility.  Something more, something better, something he didn't even truly dare dream about.  With her.  And he wanted it, so badly did he want it.

He wanted to cradle her in his arms… love her, cherish her, protect her.  To fall asleep each night having her be the last thing he saw and to wake each morning greeted by her warmth.

Somehow he knew for him it would be Sansa or no one.  He had to go all out to win her affections.

What he needed was a plan.  A solid, idiot-proof plan. 

 

********

 

For the past fortnight Sansa had been in a funk.  She had consistently eaten her local ‘stop ‘n’ shop’ out of it’s stock of Ben and Jerry’s and had managed to watch both season one and two box sets of ‘Outlander’. 

‘There’s just something about muscular, sexy, scottish men with scars,’ she thought dreamily.  Sandor was her Jamie.  But she had fucked it up and it was time to face up to the fact that she wasn’t his Claire.

It hadn’t been until yesterday that she had finally been forced to snap out of it. 

When returning to the shop for the second time that day, looking decidedly rumpled and emotional, having sobbed her way through the climax of season 2, the kindly shop owner, Davos, had ‘cut her off’ saying “you’ll thank me in the end”.

That was when she had taken a long, hard look at herself and decided that enough was enough.  Even she was fed up of moping now and decided it was time to do something, but she wasn’t quite sure what.

‘For goodness sake Sansa!  It’s time to pull up your big girl panties and deal with this mess,’ she counselled herself. 

But however long she pondered, she could only see one solution.

She would need to change spin class she realised.  Which was rather annoying because he actually got really good results, her ass had never been this toned.  But when recalling the magnitude of her embarrassment, she figured it might even be best to change gyms, possibly move town.  Heck, even change her identity.  Ok, now she was being silly, but she was just so humiliated.  To face anyone after that would be difficult, but to face the person you had been fantasising about for months would be near impossible.

That was why she was here now, almost an hour after spin class had finished.  She had waited deliberately to be sure that she wouldn’t bump into Sandor.  Gods if that happened she knew she would fall apart, and this was going to be hard enough already.

Taking a deep breath she exited her car and headed towards the gym. 

‘Just a few short steps and I can close the door on the most humiliating event of my life to date,’ she told herself. 

‘So why is my heart breaking?’ she wondered, each step seeming heavier and heavier.  She knew why, but deliberately shut those thoughts out.  Determinedly she walked on, ignoring the little voice screaming at her to stop and rethink. 

‘No,’ she told it.  It was time to cancel her membership and never see Sandor again.

 

********

 

Sandor had spent all day going over in his head what he would say to Sansa if she turned up at class tonight.  He had even gone to a barbers for a haircut and a beard trim to make the most of his meagre looks. 

He wanted to impress her.  To show her he was a man worth having.  That he could offer her something besides a potty mouth and muscles.

‘All bloody pointless,’ he silently fumed dragging the spin bikes to the storage room at the side of the studio.

She hadn’t turned up.  Again.

He should have left a while back but instead he had hung around to ride out his frustration.  Before he knew it, fifty minutes had gone by and he was dripping in sweat and feeling utterly defeated.  

‘I don’t know why I expected different,’ he thought angrily slamming the door to the storage room shut.  That was when he heard her.  

“Hey Olenna, good MMA workout?”

He was sure it was her.  He would recognise her voice anywhere.  He felt his pulse quicken in excitement and he ran out of the studio just in time to catch a glimpse of her auburn hair down the corridor.  Yes, it was definitely her.  Feeling a surge of joy bloom in his chest he called to her.

“Sansa!” he called jogging towards her.  She mustn’t have heard though, because she continued on down the corridor without stopping.  Her hair streaming behind her like a blazing torch as she flicked around the corner.

“Hey Sansa!  Wait up!  I need a word,” he called slightly louder, hastening his pace to catch her up.

When he rounded the corner she was already halfway across the lobby heading towards the reception desk, walking as if the hounds of hell were after her.

“SANSA!” he yelled.  Still no reaction.  Was she _purposefully_ _ignoring_ him?  His gut began  churning in a mix of hurt, exasperation and worry as he hurried after her.  There was queue at the desk he was grateful to see, as it afforded him the opportunity to catch up to her.

It only took him a second or two before he was stood behind her.  Even from behind she outshone every other woman in beauty and poise.  Up this close he could see how her hair wasn’t one single colour, it was copper mixed with honey, sunset red and auburn. The skin of her slender neck was a pale ivory and on one side, just below her ear, was an adorable mole. He wanted to kiss that mole.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent basking in her presence when he noticed the tension in her shoulders and the rigidity of her posture.  He realised that she must be aware that he was stood behind her and it was probably creeping her out. 

‘Who in the hells wouldn’t be creeped out having a giant, hairy, scarred mute looming over them?’ he thought.  It probably didn’t help that in his nervous state he was breathing heavily, giving a very accurate impersonation of a pervert.

It was now or never.

 

********

 

She could hear him calling her name but she pretended not to and kept walking.  It was rude, it went against her nature but she just couldn’t face him.  She _couldn’t._  

Loud footsteps were hurrying after her so she quickened her pace.  Turning the corner she headed to the reception desk, eager to cancel her membership and get out of here as quickly as possible.

She felt him hovering behind her.  She hardly dared breathe in trepidation, each second that passed heightened her anxiety, her heart thundering in her ears as she waited for him to speak. 

“Hey!”  She felt his strong arm gently grasp her shoulder and turn her to face him.

‘Oh Gods! It’s happening.  Right here, right now,’ she panicked. She wasn’t prepared for this, all of her planning had been on how to _avoid_ seeing him, but here he was right in front of her looking even more gorgeous with his shorter hair and trimmed beard. 

“Didn’t you hear me yelling after you?”  he asked with a frown.

Sansa shrugged, studying the grout of the floor tiles, determined to avoid eye contact.  If she looked into his eyes she would be lost.

“What gives?  Why have you been missing lessons?  Bronn said you injured your ankle.  Is that why?  Are you ok?”  He asked in a rush of questions, concern evident in his uncharacteristic eloquence.

She couldn’t do this.  She felt herself welling up. The pressure of her emotions had been building over the past fortnight, frothing and simmering away driving her to this breaking point.  She had to dig her nails into her palm to try and prevent herself from falling apart.

Now, face to face with him and his concern, it just rubbed it in how perfect and completely out of her reach he was.  It was too much.  She couldn’t contain herself any longer.   

“Look Sandor.  I just want to get to the desk to cancel my membership, so if you don’t mind could you please just let me go?”  she said trying to pull away.

“No!” he growled stepping to block her way “Not until you give me a bloody good reason why.  You’ve been doing well.” 

“Good reason!” she scoffed.  He was _unbelievable_.  Fine if he wanted to push this, then she would give him his good reason.  She would give him _several_ good reasons.

Everything came bubbling up to the surface.  The hurt, humiliation, disappointment and _frustration_ at his _clueless_ badgering.  She was a shaken bottle of pop with its lid removed, spewing her emotional turmoil in an uncontrollable torrent.

Squaring up to him and giving him her best imitation of her mother’s patented ‘now just you listen up’ face she let fly.

“Firstly you’re an asshole.  You shout at us, your hill climbs are evil, you made my makeup melt, your towel is too big, you set the resistance too hard for me on purpose, your eyes are silver, my thighs were chafed raw after your last lesson,” she fired off like a machine gun.

“And you have too many muscles,” she added after a slight pause, nodding her head primly for emphasis.

He stood there stupefied, hands hanging limply by his sides, his eyes wide in shock.  Whether it was because of her accusations or the vehemence with which she made them she wasn’t sure.  But it sure felt satisfying seeing him this unsure.  Good.  He deserved it.  It felt good to have a little power back.  Emboldened she continued... 

“You’re rude... you grunt at me instead of talk and you can’t wait to get away from me.  No matter how hard I try to impress you, to sound intelligent, I even do bloody internet research on fitness and muscles and man stuff to try and appeal to you but you just blank me. Every.  Single.  Week.”

He looked like he was about to try and interrupt her tirade, but she whipped up a hand with a single finger held up to shush him and he meekly closed his mouth. 

Warming to her cathartic outpouring she continued.

“No.  You asked, I’m telling.   I tried so hard to get you to notice me, hoping that you might want me back but you just completely ignore everything I try.  You barely even look at me.”  

Tears had begun streaming down her cheeks and she was shaking with the strength of emotion running through her.

“I pick out sexy clothes, try to do my hair nice.  I even had a lady set fire to my crotch just to impress you. Do you have any idea Sandor, any idea at all what that feels like?  Do you?” she questioned shrilly, not caring that her outburst had garnered a small audience.

“You tell me Sandor.  Why would I _want_ to keep coming back.  To humiliate myself further?  I know I’m not sexy.  That I’m too tall and I have ginger hair and hardly any boobs.  But I thought… I thought if I could impress you with my mind instead, but even that failed.  I’m too boring and stupid, Joffrey was right.  A stupid little girl with stupid dreams who never learns.”

Angrily she swiped at her tears, but as quickly as she wiped them away more fell to replace them.  ‘At least this time I’m not wearing a face full of makeup,’ she thought bursting into irrational giggles.

Suddenly the crux of what had really been bothering her for this last fortnight hit her like a sledgehammer.  Taking a deep breath she decided to voice this too, what did she have to lose?  Her pride and dignity were already six foot under.

“I get that you’re not interested Sandor, that much is clear now, thanks to Olenna fucking Tyrell.  But you could at least have had the balls to just say so to my face, to let me down gently.  But no, you _ran away_!”

Ready for this conversation to be over, she fired her parting shot.

“And you have the audacity to ask me for a good reason… you are _completely fucking clueless_.  Is that good enough for you?”

 

********

 

WHAT! What the actual fuck?  Was she serious right now?  His towel, is that what this was all about that stupid fucking towel mix up?

Sandor watched stunned as Sansa vented at him.  Her eyes were alight with a blue fire and her cheeks flushed pink.  She was gesturing wildly with her hands and her facial expressions were breathtakingly dramatic.  Bloody hells she was amazing.  Like a firework exploding; ferocity and beauty all mixed together. 

Too many muscles!  Well now she’s just being ridiculous he thought a touch impatiently, shifting his weight onto his other foot and tugging at his hair in frustration.  He tried to interrupt her insane ramblings, to bring reason back to this conversation, only to be shushed by a severe finger…

Did she really just do that? 

Not notice her.  Was she bloody kidding him?

Wait… What?!?!?! She got a woman to what? Does he have any idea...

‘Seven Hells!’ he thought helplessly lost now, did he need to call someone?  A doctor or the police maybe.  Had she been attacked, was this her way of telling someone?

What did Olenna have to do with this?  Was she the one who set fire to her crotch?

Fucking hells he was confused.  His mind couldn’t compute half of what was going on, it was absurd the things she was saying. 

She thinks I’m not interested… how?  The thought was ludicrous. 

How could she have misread him so badly?  He was a fool.  A giant buggering fool.  But she wouldn’t even let him speak, to explain himself.  She had completely misunderstood _everything_ and it was all FUBAR.

He watched her as she giggled.  She was so beautiful and strong, even in anger he found her irresistible.

‘She is bloody magnificent.  All fire and passion,’ he thought mesmerised.  But as her anger abated and fell into tears he felt a raw ache deep inside his chest, a physical pain.  He desperately wanted to wipe her tears away, take her in his arms and comfort her but he knew it would not be welcome. 

Gods!  He couldn’t fucking stand to see her so hurt and upset.  Seeing her like this and knowing he was the cause was a thousand times worse than burning.  He would fight through the fires of all the seven hells to protect her. 

Everything she said about him being a jerk, rude and socially inept was true.  But hearing her being down on herself.  Pulling herself to pieces like this he couldn’t tolerate it, it was driving him mad.

Not sexy!  Not want her!  He thought of nothing _but_ wanting her.  She was the most intelligent, caring, beautiful, sexy, wonderful person he had ever met and she was spouting utter shit.  He needed to shut her up.

Without thinking he just grabbed her to him and pressed his mouth to hers.

 

********


	5. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor does more shushing of his LIttle Bird... before confessing all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments. They really brighten my day and give me the drive to carry on. You are all wonderful :D
> 
> Slightly shorter chapter but hopefully you'll like it. Less humour, more Fluff and smut. Yep, it's full of Smuff. 
> 
> I own nothing. I write only for my pleasure and yours.

********

His lips gently brushed back and forth over hers stealing the words right out of her mouth.  Her mind went gloriously blank apart from one single thought… ‘He’s kissing me!’

Her heart was thudding in her chest, causing her pulse to race and her cheeks to flush.

Shyly she began to move her lips against his in response, allowing herself to become lost in his kiss.  It was slow, gentle, tender.

His strong arms gathered her to him and held her against his chest.  She could feel the hardness of his muscles pressing against her as his lips moved over hers, smooth and firm, controlling the kiss.  It was as if he were trying to tell her a thousand words in one kiss.

‘No!’ she nearly cried out in disappointment when he slowly pulled back from the kiss, breathing far more heavily than the exertion warranted.

He kept her in his arms as he gazed at her.  His silver eyes had turned a deep slate grey and they burned with an intensity that was almost frightening.  They pinned her where she stood.  She could hardly breathe, let alone speak or move.  She was completely at his mercy.

“Little Bird,” he rasped, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.  So fucking long.”

He gently stroked a rogue curl from her brow before cupping her cheek, running his thumb across her kiss swollen lips. 

She melted under his caress, his strong arms the only thing preventing her from dissolving into a puddle on the floor.

“You have?” she managed to squeak out “I… really?  I mean, me too, but I had no idea you even felt that way… that you…”

Returning his lips to hers more firmly this time, he teased and sucked at her lips eagerly, not pausing for breath.  He was like a starving man at a feast.  His hands tightened on her waist and she wondered if she might even be left with faint bruises from his desperate grip.

‘Yes, oh gods yes!’ she thought, responding to him with equal fervour, pressing herself back against him to his groan of delight.

After a little while he gentled his kisses and began trailing a hot wet path down from her lips, across her jawline, down her neck to the juncture at the top of her shoulder, before returning the journey.

“Sandor,” she gasped.  Her skin was so sensitised, the slight scuff of his beard, the wet heat of his kisses.  It was as if he were kissing a trail of fire along her neck leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. 

“Oh Gods Sandor.”

Capturing her mouth again, he slowly ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, requesting entry.  Immediately she opened to him and his tongue darted inside exploring.  At first tentative, gentle sweeps against her tongue, but soon growing fierce and passionate to match her desperate whimpers and moans. 

She was burning up, her woman's place was throbbing with arousal sending surges of wetness into the gusset of her cotton panties.  Gods she was aching for him.  

His hands wandered up from her waist to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck, angling her head to deepen the kiss further.  His tongue began thrusting in and out of her mouth rudely, twisting around her tongue in a delightfully sinful way. 

Shyly she began to move her tongue back against his, mimicking his movements ripping a ragged groan from his throat.  His hands fisted tightly in her hair and pulled her face even more tightly against his, as if he were trying to devour her very essence.

Sansa couldn’t help but moan shamelessly as he plundered her mouth.

Sparks of arousal were firing all over her body.  He was turning her into a quivering wreck, the likes of which she had never felt before, certainly not from Joffrey’s slimy kisses or Harry’s lazy, arrogant ones.  This kiss was on another level entirely.     

Gods it was so good.  Everything she had been dreaming about and more.

All of her senses suddenly became hyper-aware of everything all at once. 

Taste… spearmint gum and the slight tang of salt from his workout.  Smell… fresh sweat and shampoo.  Touch… soft lips, scruff of beard, his heat seeping through her top.  Sound… wet sucks and smacks as their lips moved together… whistling, clapping?  Sight… she realised at some point she must have closed her eyes.  Opening them she was greeted by a tangle of black and red.  And the foyer.

‘Shit! We’re still in the foyer,’ she realised with horror, breaking the kiss. 

The air was heavy with their ragged pants as they both tried to catch their breath.

She tried to step away to gather her wits and to ask if they could find somewhere a little more private.  But he held onto her tightly, refusing to let her move an inch.  He gently rested his forehead down on hers, the black curtain of his hair affording them the illusion privacy as he whispered into her ear.

“Wait.  A moment.  Please.”

“Oh!” she squeaked, suddenly realising with a blush ‘that’s his… his…’

‘Oh Gods!  Oh Gods, Oh Gods, Oh Gods!’ she repeated not capable of any rational thought.

Her brain was on meltdown, a million thoughts suddenly trying to fly through it all at once, so fast they were just a whirr.  She could feel colour flooding her as she became unbearably hot.  Her breathing was shallow, her limbs were shaking and little black dots pricked her vision. 

‘Oh Gods I’m dying,’ she thought in alarm.

“It won’t be the cats after all,” she mumbled incoherently, relief flooding her.

 

********

 

What?  Cats?  He seriously worried about her.

Holding Sansa close he breathed deeply and steadily, willing his erection to die down.  Slowly, his pulse began to calm as the fog of his lust glazed stupor began to clear, and it was to the horrifying realisation that they had a small audience.

Bronn was leaning against the counter a brilliant smile splitting his smug face, his eyebrows waggling as he called out “Get in Sandy!  Looks like it’s your lucky night!”.

‘Fucking hells!’  If he didn’t have a boner in his pants he’d march right over there and smack the arrogant prick round the upside of the head.  He made a mental note to do that tomorrow.

Everyone in the foyer was watching in varying stages of surprise, amusement, disgust and in the case of Olenna Tyrell rapt enthusiasm.  She had dragged a chair over the foyer and was sitting less than a meter away, as if she had ringside seats at a prize fight. 

“Don’t stop on my account young man.  I’m looking forward to the part where you take your pants off,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes.  Her eyes travelled down to hover blatantly at his crotch, breaking into a toothy smile when she saw his prominent bulge. 

‘Fucking hells.  She can think again if she wants to set fire to _my_ dick,’ he thought in panic.

“Want a photo?” he growled, giving her his best threatening scowl.

Not intimidated in the slightest Olenna just sucked on the straw of her coke with a noisy gurgle, giving him a wicked wink.

“Seven Fucking Hells!” he shouted glaring at them all as he quickly stomped off, dragging Sansa with him to the spin studio.  They needed some privacy.

As soon as the door closed he walked her backwards until her back was pressed against the mirror wall.  He hadn’t even bothered turning the lights on, the only light was coming in through the panels on the doors, bathing them in a dim, yellow glow.   

She’d had her opportunity to talk and now it was his turn.  Just in case she hadn’t already gotten the message, he was going to spell it out to her.

Breathing heavily he caged her in his arms and held his face close against hers.

“Little Bird, I intend to respond to each of your complaints,” he began, enjoying the feel of her at his mercy. The look of her wide eyed anticipation, the way she was worrying her lip.

“You’re right, I’m rude and an asshole and a mean ass instructor who delights in the pain of his attendees.  I can’t help my eye colour or my muscles or the size of my towels but I can help the way I behave towards you...Fuck.  I’m a buggering idiot!”

He squeezed his eyes shut taking a deep breath. 

“I’m not good at this.  Talking.  Feelings.  But Gods woman have you got it all wrong where you are concerned. So very, _very_ wrong,” he said swooping in to kiss her briefly but deeply.

 “So I’m going to spell it out for you.  Very clearly so there’s no confusion about exactly how I feel about you,” he continued, pressing his length firmly against her tummy. 

He delighted in her sharp intake of breath, the way her chest was heaving, the flush across her cheeks.  She was stunning.  He wanted to ravish her.

“You _are_ sexy.  Incredibly sexy.  You drive me to distraction.  Each and every time I see you,” he said punctuating each sentence with a kiss to her lips.

“You are _not_ too tall.  Not for me.  You are the perfect height for this…”

He dropped another bruising kiss to her plump lips before scattering them across her cheek to reach her ear.  He sniffed, taking a deep lungful of her lemony scent then sucked and nibbled on her ear lobe, delighting in the shiver he felt run through her.

“Your hair,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear, trailing his fingers through her locks “is _not_ ginger.  It’s auburn and copper and honey and sunset red.  It calls to me like a fire to a moth. But it’s the only fucking fire I want to be near woman you best believe that.”

Her little gasps and trembles were driving him insane with want but he knew that he needed to keep a tight reign on himself.  She was responding so much better than he’d ever dared hope, he didn’t want fuck it up by terrifying her with the magnitude of his desire.

Brushing kisses back across from her ear to her nose, he paused and pulled back just a fraction.  Cupping her cheeks he captured her eyes with his own.

“You are _not_ stupid _or_ boring.  I love hearing what you have to say.  Gods Sansa, it’s all me who’s fucking useless as this stuff.  The words and the conversations.  I just clam up around you, I can’t think straight.  You send me bloody crazy.  I am Sansa.  You know that right?  Crazy for you.  All of you.  Heart, body, mind.  Everything about you,” he said earnestly staring into her eyes.

“Your eyes,” he said holding her gaze intently “are sky blue with sapphire flecks.  I want to make slow, gentle love to you looking into those eyes.”

Her lips opened in a gasp and he took the opportunity to raid her mouth again.

“Your lips,” he said nibbling at them “are pink and pouty and taste of raspberries, not cherries.  They are so fucking delicious I could feast upon them for hours.” 

True to his word he kissed and sucked at her lips, pushing his tongue inside her mouth, drinking her essence as if his life depended on it.  With a reluctant groan he pulled away to rasp at her throat...

“Your neck,” gentling his kisses he licked and nibbled a slow path downwards “is slender and delicate with beautiful ivory skin, with the most adorable little mole... right... here,” he said lavishing a slow, open mouthed kiss upon that spot. 

Her breathing was shallow and rapid, he could feel her trembling against him.

Continuing downwards he flicked his tongue across her collarbone to hover over the hollow of her throat, his hot breath ghosting there as he felt goosebumps rise on her skin. 

“Your tits are divine,” he kissed down further before stopping at the swell of her breasts.  “The perfect size for caressing Little Bird, for kissing and sucking, thoughts of your tits make my mouth water.”  Lifting his hand he gently brushed the back of his knuckles, featherlight, over the peaks of her breasts.  He groaned as he felt the already pebbled tips harden even further. 

His cock was rock solid and throbbing with need but he did his best to ignore it.  Right here, right now, this was the single most erotic experience of his entire life and he didn’t want to rush it. 

Her reactions were driving him wild, pushing his arousal to new heights so he decided to be more explicit in telling her his thoughts about her.  

“Gods the other week... you have no idea how close I was to ripping that fucking top off and sucking that pebbled nipple of yours right into my mouth,” he said taking one hardened peak between his thumb and forefinger giving it a gentle pinch to a delightful whimper.

He trailed one hand slowly down her arm, her side, her thigh to reach round behind her.

“Your ass is perfect.  I love to watch you ride, you know that girl?  It gives me the filthiest thoughts, things that would make you blush right down to your toes if you knew,” he said cupping a cheek before giving it a firm squeeze, growling as he did so. 

“Hmmmm, aahhhh” she moaned, throwing her head back against the mirror wall.

He was starting to lose his control.  He began rubbing his cock against her tummy, wanting her to feel what she did to him. A high whine slipped from Sansa’s lips as she pressed back against him, her hands gripping desperately at his biceps.

He hoisted her feet off the ground as he attacked her neck in a fierce storm of kisses.  Her legs lifted to immediately wrap around his waist, opening her core to his solid length.

“I think of your dainty hands stroking me, cupping my balls… your hot, wet mouth around my cock, sucking me, drinking me.” 

He was rubbing himself lewdly against her and if he wasn’t careful he would spend in his pants.

“My hands and mouth on your cunt.  I have absolutely no fucking idea what you did to your crotch with Olenna Tyrell and frankly I’m a little afraid to ask, but thoughts of your pussy consume me.  My fingers sliding through your wetness.  Tasting you...  Gods I bet you taste sweet girl, like honey.  I want to feel you cum all over my face.  I’d lap your juices like the dog I am.”

“Yes Sandor, oh yes,” she was breathless and so fucking beautiful in her arousal.

He ground his length firmly into her crotch, the friction bringing him some relief from the ache in his balls.  Sansa’s eyes fluttered and she bit down on that plump, pink lip, trying to contain her cries, he knew.

So far she hadn’t flinched once from his suggestions.  In fact, as he had described his thoughts and desires in increasingly lewd detail her eyes burned with arousal.  He could feel her stiff nipples pressing against his chest, she was panting and whining and was rubbing her core restlessly against his cock. 

He wasn’t an expert, but he would say she was as turned on as he was.  Gods the thought of her wet and wanting made him even harder for her.

“Fucking hells girl the things I want to do to you.  With you.  You have no idea how hard you get me… well mayhaps you do now… do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to ease myself to thoughts of you?  How I call your name as I cum?”

Sansa was writhing against him, whimpering…

“Please Sandor, please, please…” she was begging, her hands frantically clawing at his biceps, her chest heaving against his.

“Ahhh and that voice.  Gods your sweet voice.  Those breathy moans and sighs you’re making for me girl... has me so fucking hard I’m leaking all over myself”  he ground himself against her again to push his point home.

“Do you know I’ve fantasised about the noises I can get that sweet mouth of yours to make.  Moans, whimpers, crying out in pleasure, begging for my cock, for my cum.  Do I shock you Sansa.  The filthy thoughts I’ve had?” 

She just bit her lip and moaned her eyes telling him everything he needed to know. 

“One day Sansa, will you sing for me?” he begged her.

 

****


	6. Privacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you so much for your comments, they give me life <3
> 
> I found this chapter difficult for some reason, it just didn't seem to want to flow and my mind kept wandering to write parts of later chapters (muchos smuff) and I even wrote the epilogue. Anyway, if it's a little off that's why. But I got there in the end. I hope you all like it. 
> 
> As always I own nothing. I write purely for fun.
> 
> ****

“I’ll sing for you gladly Sandor,” she said looking into his eyes. 

Slowly she reached out to stroke his scarred cheek, gently feeling the grooves and ridges under her fingertips.  Moving across she softly brushed them over his lips, tracing both the plump softness of the good part and the ragged, damaged edge.  As she did so he turned his head into her caress, pressing a gentle kiss against her wrist.

‘He wants me!  He actually wants me.  Gods I’m so turned on right now.  He wants me.’

Sansa was dancing inside, breathless, giddy with happiness and arousal. 

Losing her inhibitions she summoned the courage to voice her desires as openly as he had.

“Those things you describe... they don’t shock me...” she lowered her eyes bashfully “... they arouse me,” she finished on a whisper, her cheeks flaming hot.

“ _You_ arouse me.  For months I’ve thought of you.  Your eyes, your arms, holding you, being held by you, ripping your top off to find out the truth of your chest hair.  Kissing you… more than kissing you... I want to touch and taste _every_ inch of your skin.”

She felt his grip on her waist tighten as he growled at her, his eyes shining with black fire.  With fierce passion he captured her lips in another searing kiss, his lips and tongue laying claim to her mouth. 

‘He is kissing me like a desperate man, as if the world is about to end and this is the single last memory he wants to have,’ she thought, eagerly returning his fire with her own. 

Reaching up she knotted her hands in his sweaty hair, pulling his face closer still, her nails clawing at his scalp restlessly.  Their tongues and lips were battling for dominance, a ferocious game of give and take, their bodies rubbing against each other in a maddening rhythm.

Her lungs were about to burst.  Finally giving in to the need for air she pulled away.  They rested their foreheads together, panting for breath after their intense kiss.

She took in his mussed hair, flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips.  He looked half fucked already and totally bloody gorgeous.  She wanted to kiss his face off all over again. She wanted to kiss a hell of a lot more than just his face.

She knew she was wet with arousal, she could feel her juices soaking through her panties and wetting the top of her thighs.  Her nipples were stiff little bullets, achy and begging her to thrust her chest into his hands so he could tweak and fondle them. 

She wished she was wearing that ridiculous gym get up again, then he would be able to slide his tongue under the edge of her top and take a nipple into his mouth and suck…

She moaned at that thought.  With one, admittedly hot and heavy kiss, Sandor had brought months of simmering sexual frustration to a full boil of aching, desperate need.  She wanted to drive him as wild as he did her.

“I touched myself in the shower thinking of you… pretended my hands were yours as I soaped myself… teasing my breasts… pinching my nipples… running my hands inside my thighs... over my lower lips… I played inside my wetness wishing my fingers were _your_ fingers… _your_ cock!  I called _your_ name as I came,” she confessed, enjoying his pants of arousal.

“Does that shock _you_?” she asked, knowing the answer because the lust and awe was evident in his eyes _and_ his pants.

‘Gods the size of him!’ she thought, clearly able to feel his bulge rubbing against her thigh.  He was bigger than she had imagined, and that was big. 

He was grinding against her relentlessly as he once again began to thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth.  His cock felt like a length of steel, the head nudging maddeningly close to her nub. She tried to wiggle sideways a fraction so that he would catch the place where she needed it most.  She was throbbing in need for him and she hoped that he could feel her wetness through her leggings.  She wanted him to know, to feel it.  She had never been this wet and it was exciting.

“Sansa, fuck!  Woman, the things you do to me.  Fuck,” he gasped tearing his mouth away.

Fuelled by his obvious desire she wanted to excite him further, drive him to taking her as she dreamed.

“Sandor you get me so wet.  My… _cunt_ … “ she said relishing in the filthy word and the shocked delight it lit in his eyes “it aches so badly for you right now.  I can feel it throbbing, wetness dripping down my thighs… I want you to do all the things you’ve imagined to me…  I want to feel your fingers part my folds and push inside me… to stretch me and get me ready for your cock… for you to fuck me senseless… to feel your muscles pound me like I’ve never felt before.”

She was trembling with need, craving his touch.  It felt as though her whole body was on fire, burning with the passion running through her veins.

“I want you so badly,” she whimpered “Please, please touch me… I want you pull my panties aside and slide your fingers over me, feel how wet you’ve made me…”

She held her breath as he slowly, deliberately grazed his fingers over her lower stomach, before inching them steadily below the waistband of her leggings.  She cried out as she felt his fingers travel down over the top of her panties, gradually lower and lower.

‘Yes, oh gods yes,’ it felt so good, so, so good.  She couldn’t wait to feel his skin on hers, the gentle press of his finger as it parted her folds.

“Keep going, please keep going,” she begged him breathlessly.

He paused for a second longer before pressing the heat of his palm gently against her mound, his fingers curling to barely brush over her heated slit.  It was a ghost of a touch but even through her panties it lit her senses on fire, a flash of lightning searing through her body.  She urgently tried to push against him, needing more friction.

“Gods girl!  You’re dripping wet.  So wet.  All for me.”  He was rasping into her neck and she wasn’t sure if he even knew he was talking out loud, let alone whether he was asking her a question or giving praise.

“Please... please,” she moaned urging his fingers to move, on the verge of losing her senses completely.

Suddenly, Sandor removed his hand to her blinding disappointment.

‘No! What’s wrong, doesn’t he like me down there?’ she worried, feeling tears prick at her eyes in frustrated longing.

“Not here.  Not like this, not with you,” he explained.

‘He must have seen my hurt,’ Sansa registered as he calmed her with a gentle kiss to her temple.

“What say we get out of here Little Bird, before we end up making a mess of these mirrors?” he rasped, desire evident in every fibre of his being.

“Yes!  Yes, please take me home Sandor,” she begged unwrapping her legs from his waist to stand on wobbly legs.

“Some privacy would be nice,” she said peering over his shoulder.  She had to bite her lip to contain her giggles as his eyes boggled in helpless terror.

 

********

 

“Let me guess,” he grinned at her  “Olenna’s pressed up against the door fogging up the window with heavy breathing?” he joked, not truly expecting anything of the sort.

“No it's worse...” she said biting her lip.

‘Worse! How could it be worse?’ He wondered in rising panic.

Bracing himself he slowly turned around, only to be dazzled by a bright light shining right at them.  He whipped his head back around so sharply he feared whiplash.

His arousal instantly flagged.

Olenna Tyrell had pushed the door ajar and was rubber necking with her phone aimed right at them.

“What is she… is she literally taking a photo?”  he asked Sansa in an incredulous whisper, half horrified half amused at the gall of the woman.

Before Sansa could explain, Olenna’s voice rang clearly across the studio.

“Oh no dear, I’m live streaming…” she said angling the phone right at his crotch.

It took him a moment to process what she had said.  His brain was on delay, but once his thought processes kicked in, horror and anger surfaced in equal degree.

You’re what!?!?” he thundered stomping over to retrieve the offending device from her before his dry humping unwittingly went viral.

‘The nosy, old cunt!’ he fumed ‘Her and Varys should hook up sometime, keep each other busy and save everyone else from their damnable interfering. And there's clearly nothing wrong with her hearing given the way she heard me whisper to Sansa.  Oh Fuck.  I bet she heard everything,’  he reaslied, his cheeks burning in humiliation. 

“Give me the phone Olenna. I want to make sure you have no other recordings on there,” he commanded her in his most forceful and threatening voice.

He grabbed her arm and frog marched her from the studio, trying unsuccessfully to wrestle the phone from her iron grip as they went. Sandor noted that she was surprisingly strong and spry for a little old lady.  ‘Looks can be very deceiving, _very_ bloody deceiving indeed.’

Losing his patience with this infuriating woman he stopped wrestling her and shouted at the top of his voice

“Olenna I want it! Give it to me!” 

A dramatic hush fell upon the foyer as people stared in horrified fascination at the new drama unfolding before their eyes. You could hear a pin drop.

“We'll, as you ask so nicely young man, it would be cruel to refuse.”

Everything was still and quiet for a heartbeat as Sandor registered what he had said.  He swallowed to try and lubricate his dry throat, a stress headache pricking at his temples.

Bronn was wearing a shit eating smile, winking and giving him a double thumbs up, mouthing ‘get in!’

‘Fucking hells!’ he fumed, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and contain his rising fury.

“The phone!  I mean the Gods damned phone alright!  I want you to give me possession of your mobile device immediately!” he said in false calm, lunging once again for the said item.

Slapping his hand firmly away she promptly shoved it into her bra beaming at him like the Cheshire cat.  Howls of laughter could be heard from the reception desk.  He really must remember to smack Bronn one tomorrow.

“Oooops, butter fingers,” she said in fake apology.  “Do feel free to retrieve it.”

“Awww seven fucking hells!” he roared in frustration, giving up and stalking away.

Giggling wickedly Olenna marched briskly to the desk.

“I’d like to cancel MMA and join spin class please,” she said matter of factly.

Sandor froze mid-step, rooted to the spot in horror, 'Oh no.  Oh no no no no no.  You have to be fucking kidding me!’

“Unless of course Bronn and Tormund would like me to... what were the words? Give a bloody good reason,” she smirked, winking at all three horror struck men.

‘That woman is impossible,’ he thought, praying he wouldn’t be facing her on a spin bike next week.

Shoulders sagging he pondered how he had gone from grinding his cock against the sweetest cunt of the hottest woman on the face of the planet to _this_?!  He had been about to feel her… he had been _that_ close.  Thank Gods he had stopped.  He didn’t want Sansa subject to anyone else's eyes.  Her body, her cries, her arousal... it had been _for him._   No one else.  _Him!_ But instead of feeling her slick heat and licking her nipples, he had been groped and wrestled in equal measure by a randy septuagenarian.  Seriously, was he cursed?

‘Fuck my life!’ he thought.

 

*********

 

When Sandor returned he was decidedly ruffled and flushed looking.  Sansa couldn’t help but giggle at him.  Images of a determined 5 foot Olenna manhandling her 6 and a half foot beast of a man was just too funny.  But upon seeing his scowl she bit the inside of her cheek and took a breath to compose herself.

“Oh Sandor, please, let’s not let this ruin our night,” she purred at him.  “Let’s get out of here like you suggested.”

As they walked down the corridor towards the car park she linked her arm through his, pressing her cheek against his bicep, taking a discreet sniff of his scent.

‘Oh yes,’ she thought biting her lip.  He smelled of fresh sweat and his underlying body wash.  She could feel the firmness of his muscles and was eager to run her hands all over him and lick his scent directly from his body.  She was digging her nails into his forearm to prevent her hands wandering to where where she really, really wanted them to go.

When they reached her car, in the privacy of the dark and empty carpark he shoved her against the passenger side door and kissed her deeply.  Her arousal that had cooled down to a gentle simmer since he left the studio was ignited again and she was desperate for them to pick up where they had left off.

Pulling her lips away she breathlessly asked him “Your place or mine?”

 

********

 

“Good evening Sandor, and Mhaegen is it?” came an unctuous voice.

His blood ran cold.  ‘Oh no.  That’s all I fucking need.  An interrogation from this nosy, bald cunt,’ he thought in despair.

As if an apparition Varys appeared from darkness to materialise before them wearing a peach satin smoking gown tied at the waist with what appeared to be curtain tassels.

‘Ponce!’ thought Sandor mean spiritedly.  He was eager to get his Little Bird inside so they could  pick up where they had left off, his balls were aching and probably blue by now.

Clearly perplexed by their blank looks, Varys tried again.

“Ahhh no, not Mhaegen.  She was the brunette with the large bosom was she not Sandor.  Oh yes, now I remember. Ros.  She was the redhead if I recall?” he asked looking at him slyly.

‘Fucking hells! Why won’t he shut up?’ he thought desperately feeling Sansa shuffle awkwardly next to him. 

“Marei... Dancy... Daisy… Leslyn.”  Each new name met with a small terse shake of Sansa’s head.  He could feel her stiffening up by the second.  This wasn’t good.

Just his bloody luck that Varys remembered the name of every woman he had ever brought back to his place in the past ten years.  It made him seem like a total player.  He needed to explain to Sansa, that she wasn’t just some name on a long list of women to him.

“Oh I’m sorry my dear your name seems to have escaped me I fear,” Varys conceded.  Then shooting him a wicked smile he continued “it’s rather hard to keep up sometimes, one has so _many_ names to remember.”

Sandor felt his eyes boggle at his insinuation.  He shot Varys a murderous glare.  ‘Why don’t you just hurry up and _die_!’ he seethed spitefully trying to beam the thought right into Varys’ mind.

He felt Sansa remove her hand from his and he started to panic.  He was going to knock seven hells of shit out of the cockless wonder tomorrow.

He retook Sansa’s hand and dragged her inside before Varys could talk him into any more hot water.  He needed to explain this immediately, he did not want to fuck up the best thing that had barely even happened to him.

‘Fuck my life’ he thought flipping Varys off as he slammed the door shut.

“Sansa I can explain,” he began, only to be jumped upon by a blaze of red and blue, eager hands grabbing at him.

“Later Sandor, I know you’re not like that guy made out.  I _know_.  Now for Gods sake please touch me, I’m dying here,” she told him attacking his neck and shoulder with fierce kisses, hands scrabbling to find purchase on his muscles.

He kissed her back and lifted her into his arms.  Her legs wrapped around his waist tightly, her cunt grinding against his stomach, fevered breaths panting against his neck as she stopped kissing him to suck on his ear lobe.

He walked quickly down the hallway to his bedroom, kissing her as he kicked the door open.


	7. Tasty treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Sandor's place our two lovebirds take things to the bedroom...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, after giving me hell we have a chapter! Less humour, more smuff. 4,500 words of smuff. You're welcome :D
> 
> I've realised titles and summaries are my biggest weakness, I apologise. Everything was either too crude or cliche Mills and Boon. 
> 
> Please comment, they are my writing inspiration. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for supporting me so far <3
> 
> I own nothing. I write for fun not profit.
> 
> ****

With a frown Sandor took in his overflowing laundry basket, damp towels and yesterday’s clothes discarded across his floor, the unmade bed, his free weights scattered at the foot of his bed and last night's pizza box shoved onto the dresser.

‘Fuck, this is hardly romantic. Why did I suggest my place?’ he thought in a flash of irritation at himself. 

He knew why.  He had trying to put Sansa at ease, thinking that she might not want him to know where she lived or that she might not be comfortable with him in her space.  But in his shortsightedness he had forgotten his lack of housekeeping and the rush he had left in this morning, thanks to his enjoyable four cycles of snooze and lengthy shower.

Thankfully Sansa wasn’t facing into the room.  He hoped his neck would remain sufficiently distracting and she wouldn’t notice the mess surrounding them.

Carefully he began carrying her towards his bed, kicking his strewn clothes out of the way as he went.  Her legs kept a tight grip of his waist, her hands tangled in the ends of his messy hair, pulling gently as she nuzzled into his shoulder and neck.

With each step he felt her kisses became more fevered, her hot tongue licking wet circles and firm stripes upwards until she reached his ear.  Then to his delight she began to nibble and suck on his earlobe, driving him mad with want.  Each time he felt his flesh disappear into her warm, wet mouth he felt his cock throb, seeping sticky fluid onto his boxers.

Gently laying her down on the rumpled sheets and tangled duvet, he took a moment to relish the sight of her laying there.  Gods she looked beautiful.  A blaze of sunset across his black pillowcase, her eyes darkened to midnight blue and mirroring his own desire.  The pink flush across her face and neck and her gently heaving chest.  It was almost as if she had walked right out of his fantasy from this morning.  He hoped that the bed at least didn’t smell of his exertions.

With a heady surge to his cock he remembered the reason for the state of his bed.  How he had thrashed and bucked as he fucked his fist that morning to thoughts of her.  Her sopping cunt sat on his face… his hands firmly gripping her hips holding her in place as he lathed at her sweet nub… drinking her pleasure as she came, her juices dripping down his chin and into his beard. 

The memories had his cock pressing uncomfortably against the waistband of his underwear, begging to be released from its confines.  He desperately wanted to rub his length along her naked slit, coat himself in her juices before sliding home into her tight quim.

Pulling back from her gently, he stared into her eyes.  Before he took this any further he wanted to explain what this meant to him, what _she_ meant to him.  Despite her protestations that she understood, he needed to clear the air after what that sly fucker Varys had insinuated.

“Sansa… you, here… me, ” he whispered, not even sure where to begin.  His throat felt tight and dry, as if he was choking on his words as he forced them out.

“Those women.  It isn’t how he made out.  I didn’t even remember their names.  Varys is just a nosy fucker who pays too much attention…” he suddenly realised he wasn’t making this sound any better.  Coughing he tried again.

“What I mean is… they were just one time deals or a short lived thing. A means to scratch an itch when I felt the need.  None of them meant anything more than that, on either side.  Drunken one night stands, empty and pointless.  Gods.  He must have remembered and listed every woman I’ve ever been with in the 15 years I’ve lived here,” he blurted in frustration. 

He wasn’t explaining himself very well.  He knew that from the puzzled look in her eyes.  Fuck! He was fucking it up.

“But there hasn’t been anyone in… a long time” he swallowed awkwardly, not wanting to get into his sad and desperate sexual history right now.  He hadn’t had anyone since he met her.  She had consumed his every thought.  Wanting her.

“But you… you do mean something to me.  You’re not just an easy lay to me, or someone I want to forget afterwards…  nor someone who I want to forget me.  You’re so much more than that to me.  More than any of them ever were.  There has never been _anyone_ compared to you.”

He stroked her cheek, wishing her to know the truth of his words.  She still didn’t respond so he dropped his head closing his eyes, desperately praying to keep hold of his emotions.  To not cry like a bloody greenboy kicked in the nuts.  But that’s how it felt.  A physical pain at the thought of her rejecting him, tearing herself away and leaving. 

His heart thumped anxiously in his chest as her silence continued, it was hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to beat right out of his ribcage.  His palms were starting to sweat so he rubbed them on his shorts absently.

“Sandor,” she finally whispered to him. He kept his head bowed, hiding.

‘This is it.  Where she finds an excuse to leave,’ he thought, heart sinking into his boots.

 

 

****

 

Grasping his cheeks with her hands she lifted his head so she could angle him to look at her.

Pulling his face close to hers she studied him.  She saw that the silver of his iris had all but disappeared, his pupil blown wide to leave just the slate flecks at the outer edges visible.  She was so close she could even see how thick and long his dark lashes were, the fine wrinkles around the corner of his eyes.

The ends of his hair shrouded them like a curtain.  It tickled her jawline and neck, raising goosebumps there in response.  She inhaled his scent; fresh sweat, shampoo and him, a heady combination that made her want to lick him all over.

The shared air between them was crackling with electricity, each waiting for the other to move or speak.

Tenderly she brushed his hair back from his brow, then in gentle sweeps of her fingers she explored his face.  Tracing her fingers first over his one thick eyebrow and then the one partially burned away.  Running her fingertip down the length of his nose, across his sharp cheekbones, pressing her palm softly over the ruin of his cheek, feeling the ridges and fissures of his scarring, before finally stroking the soft plumpness of his lower lip even as it faded into ragged scar tissue at the corner.

She could feel his tension, it was evident in the tautness of his arm muscles, the twitch of his cheek, his short rapid breaths.  But he didn’t push her away, he allowed her exploration.

‘He is so brave,’ she thought ‘gentle and strong too.’

She recalled how he had touched and held her earlier, his fierceness and strength.  But yet she could feel his tenderness, his affection for her despite this.  It was tangible underneath his raw passion and crude words, tempering him and leaving her in a melted puddle of bliss.

‘Brave, gentle and strong,’ she smiled. 

Pulling her eyes away from his mouth, lifting them back to his eyes she gasped.  The dark grey pools of desire were tinged with resignation.

‘He thinks I’m going to reject him,’ she realised.

She needed to disabuse him of that notion immediately. She knew he spoke the truth about his feelings for her.  Now she needed to reassure him of hers in return.

Using a gentle tug she pulled his face even closer towards her, lifting her own face at the same time until they were barely a hair’s breadth apart.  Her mouth so close to his, her lips brushed against his tantalisingly as she spoke, her voice scarce more than a whisper.

“Thank you.  For telling me that.  But you didn’t need to.  I trust you.  I know you’re not like that… that this isn’t like that.  I can feel it too between us.  It’s the same for me... what this means to me… what _you_ mean to me,” she said looking him in the eyes.

Slowly she ran her hand down his neck, relishing the sensation of the firm muscle beneath her fingers and the coarseness of his hair there.  Lower she trailed her hand, following the hair down, until her fingers met the darker, thicker hair of his chest revealed by the cut of his top.  She curled her fingers around his top to stroke into the surprisingly soft hair there, her nails gently raking the skin of his upper pectoral muscle.

He was so beautiful and masculine.

“Please Sandor.  I want you... want us.  Don’t hide from me.  Don’t hold back from me.  Please.”

Their lips crashed together and their cooled passion reignited immediately.

 

**** 

 

He pushed her back onto the bed, laying atop her, his arms caging her.  Conscious to keep his full weight off her he braced himself on his forearms. He pressed fierce kisses along her jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone... down... down.  He tugged the neckline of her top as low as he could in order to kiss and lick at the swell of her breasts, dipping his tongue into her cleavage.

She tasted divine, soft clean skin and perhaps a hint of lemony body lotion.

His lower body was pressed against her and he rubbed his hard length against her thighs, desperate for the friction to ease his ache.  Her breathy moans and whimpers acting like a siren's call.

“Sansa, please can I…”

“Yes!” she cried not letting him finish.  Half sitting on her elbows she ripped and grappled her top off, unhooked her bra and flung both aside to reveal herself to him.

His breath caught as he gazed upon her.  Tousled fiery hair falling loose around her shoulders, kiss swollen lips, eyes ablaze with lust.  And her breasts...

Two perfect, perky mounds tipped with pale brown nipples.  A light dusting of freckles scattered across the top of each one.  A hint of flush extending down her neck to the swell of her…

‘Not tits,’  he thought absently.  ‘Breasts.  Womanly.  Beautiful.  Stunning.  They aren’t for groping and pawing at mindlessly.  They deserve to be appreciated, enjoyed, feasted on.  As does the woman they belong to.’  

“You’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely, swallowing to lubricate his dry throat.

He reached out to lightly trail his fingers over first one breast, then the other.  He relished the silky softness of her flesh and the way her nipples hardened into stiff little peaks under his caress.

“Sandor,” she breathed, her head falling back to open her throat once again to his kisses.

Spurred by her response he cupped a breast, feeling its weight fill his palm perfectly.  Letting out a satisfied groan he squeezed and kneaded it gently, before tearing his mouth from her neck to descend upon her other breast.  He ran his tongue around her nipple, flicked and licked over the pebbled teat before taking it into his mouth and sucking.

Sansa let out a cry and arched her back up against him, thrusting the tip further into his mouth.

Emboldened further he feasted on her like a man starved.  Licking, kissing, suckling and even daring a gentle bite.  She was writhing and moaning beneath him, driving him into a frenzy.

Tearing his mouth away he watched as her already stiff peak hardened further as it was re-exposed to the air.  Moving across to gift her other breast with the same attention, he replaced his mouth with eager fingers.  Tweaking and twisting her nipple between thumb and forefinger as his palm cupped the underside of her breast.

He moved his mouth up from her breasts to kiss her mouth deeply, fucking her with his tongue. His hands were stroking up her thighs to the curve of her waist in a frenzy, gripping and pressing as he went.

Suddenly she was a flurry of hands, ripping and grabbing at clothing.  She peeled her leggings off and threw them aside to lay before him in just her panties.  What a fucking sight for sore eyes she was.  He was the luckiest bugger in all of Westeros.  Reaching up she yanked at his top, trying to pull it over his head. 

“Off,” she panted, giving him just enough time to get it off and fling it away before she was attacking his mouth once again with hers.  He could feel her hard nipples rubbing against his chest as she writhed beneath him.

He left her mouth to once again travel southwards, licking and sucking a path down her neck, chest, breasts, down… down.  He kissed her tummy, dipping his tongue into her belly button on his way past to an outraged shriek and wriggle.

‘Ticklish’ he thought with a smile.

Needing to collect himself for a moment before he spent in his pants he stopped his kisses to rest his forehead on her lower tummy.  He was panting, breathless with need.  

He inhaled. 

‘Fucking hells her scent.’ 

He could smell the musk of her arousal and it made his mouth water.  She smelled divine.  He wanted to taste her, see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.  He bet she did.  Shifting to press his nose right into the juncture of her thighs he took another deep inhale, gripping her hips and pulling her right into his face.  She was intoxicating.

“Gods girl you smell good,” he rasped.

He could feel her hands tugging at his head trying to get him to move up and away.

‘Probably embarrassed,’ he thought ‘with absolutely no fucking need to be.’  He would set that right.  Show her how fucking hot she was, how turned on she got him, how hard he was for her.

“Please?” he asked her hooking his fingers into the waistband of her cotton panties.  At her shy nod he dragged them down over her lips, down her thighs, her calves and off her feet flinging them behind him.

She was laid bare before him.  He pulled away to lean back and sit upon his knees, giving himself chance to admire her.  

“Fucking hells woman!  You’re…” he was speechless.  No words could do her justice.

He gazed at her, taking in her slender waist, the curving flare of her hips, the long length of her thighs. Gently he parted her legs to look upon her cunt. 

‘Fucking hells.’  He almost came in his pants then and there at the sight of her perfect pink slit.  She was bare apart from a neat auburn strip, her folds slick and glistening in her juices that had also spread onto her upper thighs.  He wanted to dive in and taste her but suddenly he had a disconcerting thought.

‘Her cunt… was it alright after the fire incident?’  Perhaps he ought to check.  He didn’t want to hurt her.

“Sansa, errrr... your womanly parts,” he started with a strained squeak.  He was trying to be gentle and responsible, but how does one ask this?  “Ahem.  Are they errr… alright?  You know… after the fire and all.  Are you ok?” he finished in a rush, feeling his cheeks burning.

“Fire?” she said looking at him like he had lost his mind.  Then suddenly she burst out laughing, causing her breasts to jiggle in the most tantalising way.

“Oh Gods Sandor, you doofus,” she said between giggles “I got a wax.  A very intimate wax as you can tell.  Done by a professional, not Olenna,” she added for good measure to put to rest any worries he had on that front. 

“And yes, I’m fine now, completely fine, so will you hurry up and touch me before I die from anticipation!” 

“Girl, you’ll be the end of me,” he said before diving in to taste her.

She tasted divine.  Strong, musky, but he liked it.  He licked his tongue the full length of her slit, rear to front, in one firm, wet stripe.  Sansa let out a desperate cry, one that if she hadn’t been holding his head to her so tightly, he might have mistaken for pain.

“You’re fucking delicious girl, believe me,” he growled lifting his lips to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his tongue.  As their mouths played, he stroked his fingers slowly through her folds, enjoying the slippery, silky feel of her.  She was _so wet_.  Dripping wet and all for him.

He felt his arousal surge to even greater heights, but he tried to ignore the overwhelming urge to grind his cock against her bare cunt.  This was for _her_ , about _her_ , he wanted to pleasure _her_.

With a moan her parted her folds and teased her tight entrance, dipping the tip of his middle finger just inside.  Warm… wet… tight… soft… he groaned and sucked on her neck as he pressed his finger steadily deeper into her.  She felt so fucking good.

“Oh Gods,” she whimpered beneath him,  He could feel her tentatively pushing herself against his finger.  He brushed his thumb up against her nub to bring forth a cry from her lips. 

“That’s it girl use my finger… sing for me…” he encouraged her. 

He pressed his finger in and out of her in a slow rhythm, feeling her tense and tremble beneath him. He moved his lips down from her neck to her breasts, lavishing her nipples with firm sucks and gentle nips.

“Gods your cunt is sweet girl, tight and wet… so wet, and it’s all for me.  Fucking hells,” he groaned as she thrust herself against him more urgently.

He quickened his pace and added a second finger, feeling her cunt stretch around him.  He thrust in and out of her in tune to her growing cries, his thumb pressing and teasing circles against her clit.  His arousal grew with every thrust into her cunt, every cry that rent from her lips.

“Gods you’re beautiful.  I want to feel you come on my fingers… feel your juices seep over my knuckles,”

Her cries grew louder and more frequent as her body bucked against his hand.  He could tell she was close, her cunt was quivering around his fingers, her breath was coming short and sharp and as hard as he thrust his fingers, she ground right back against him.

“Sandor… Sandor… Oh Gods Sandor… please… please,” she begged him.

“That’s right, give it to me Sansa, come for me… please… sing girl… sing!” he growled at her as he curled his fingers to press against her inner wall.

“Ahhh, ahhhh…. Sandor…. Ahhhhhhh Sandor, I’m coming… I’m coming...” she cried in a loud wail as he felt the tension in her body break beneath him.  She was shuddering and letting out ragged, halting gasps as he felt her cunt clench and pulse around his fingers.

‘She’s coming,’ he thought in awe.

He studied her face, how her eyes screwed shut, her teeth bit into her lip and her flushed face restlessly thrashed side to side.  Her hands were little fists twisted into the duvet cover and her back was arched up as her hips bucked against his hand.

Fuck!  He had actually made her come.  He felt a smug pride as he gently eased his fingers out of her twitching cunt.  Immediately he lifted them to his mouth and sucked, savouring her juices.

This right here was the best moment of his entire life.

 

 

****

 

Sprawled and sated Sansa tried desperately to bring herself together after her shattering orgasm.  She could still feel her cunt throbbing with with sporadic aftershocks and she pressed her thighs together, trying to eke out the last vestiges of her pleasure.

‘That was amazing.  Sandor is amazing.’

“Unnghuuh,” she muttered incomprehensibly.  Her entire body and brain was a jellied mess.

His every touch had inflamed her.  From the first swipe of his tongue through her wetness, to the moment she fell apart and the agonisingly slow way he had eased his fingers out of her afterwards.

She recalled how he had gently parted her folds to circle and tease her entrance, the jolt of lightning that seared through her as his thumb brushed against her sensitive clit.  The satisfaction she moaned as his finger steadily pressed into her, the stretch she felt as he added a second.  The maddening rhythm he set as he thrusted in and out of her, stroking her walls and crooking his fingers _just so_ to find her hidden spot.  She had been fucking herself on his fingers shamelessly as she felt the pressure coiling and building to an all-consuming peak.

Gods.  He had played her like a gifted musician their beloved instrument.  Using his fingers to elicit gasps and cries of pleasure, encouraging her to release a song she didn’t even know herself capable of.

She had never felt like that from being touched before.  His fingers had filled her more than her own slender ones could and he had caressed her insides in a way she just couldn’t manage. Even when she had used her vibrator it didn’t compare _at all_. 

His mouth at her nipples, hands squeezing her thighs, hips and breasts, his hair tickling her shoulders and chest as he kissed and licked at her.  Hearing his pants of arousal and crude encouragements.  They were all things that couldn’t be imitated or replicated.

The bliss of her peak abating she sat up, kissing him with fervour.  Twisting position so that he lay on his back and she hovered above him, she kissed his chest, arms, neck and tummy.  She raked her hands up his thighs, digging her fingers into the firm muscle there. 

Delighting in his groans and gasps she worked her hands higher and higher, right up to the waistband of his shorts.  Her eyes eagerly took in the outline of his rigid cock, the damp patch seeping through the material, the trail of hair descending down below the waistband. 

Desperate to see him, to feel him in her hands, she hurriedly shoved his shorts and boxers down in one move, to release his erection with a spring.

“Oh my… you’re…” she was stunned at the sight of him.  She had imagined him so many times and not once had she come close to the reality, which was _so much better_.  She pressed her thighs together, again relishing the residual pangs of pleasure from her orgasm.

He was big and hard and had thick veins running his length.  His tip was soaked in clear fluid, droplets stringing between his slit and a glistening, sticky pool on his abdomen.  The base of his cock was nestled in a thick patch of black curls, his balls hanging heavy between his thighs.

“Beautiful… thick, long.  Huge,” she whispered in awe.

She wanted to touch him, stroke him, squeeze him, tease him.  To give him pleasure in return, to make him moan helplessly for her.

Reaching forward, her hair grazing his thighs as she did so, she gently traced one of his veins with a featherlight touch.  Running a single fingertip from his stem to tip agonisingly slowly, stopping to swirl it in the sticky fluid there before retracing her path back down.  She marvelled at how soft his skin was, like silk over an iron bar.

Sandor was panting raggedly and she could feel him trembling beneath her touch.  She felt so powerful and turned on.  Emboldened she silently lifted her wet finger to her lips to lick off his juice, staring him dead in the eyes as she did so.

It was salty, sticky and delicious.  She hummed an appreciative moan, before releasing her finger with a pop.

“Fuck… Sansa,” he said in a voice near unrecognisable as his.  It was a whimper, a desperate plea.

Gently she cupped his balls with the palm of one hand, testing their weight and enjoying the feel of them as she gently squeezed and moulded them. She lifted her other hand, encircling his shaft in a loose grip.  Before she could tighten her hold or move her hand she felt his cock tense and pulse in sharp jerks, thick white spurts of hot cum spilling out all over her hands.

He was beautiful. 

Transfixed she watched his tummy muscles tensing in time with his powerful spurts and she felt his thighs flex beneath her, his chest heaving in great gasps as he threw back his head.  A ragged groan left his lips followed by a deep sigh.

He was so unbelievably sexy.  Watching him climax was almost better than climaxing herself.

“Fuck! Oh shit! Sansa I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I couldn’t help…” he was beet red.

She pressed the fingers of her clean hand to his lips to shush him.  She _did not_ want him feeling bad about this.

“I’ll be back in one moment,” she promised.  Hopping off the bed she quickly popped into his ensuite bathroom to wash her hands and gather some tissue.

As she stood at the sink letting the hot water wash away his seed, she thought about what she had just witnessed.  Rather than being disappointed by his early release, she was far more aroused at having seen him lose his control like that.

‘He was so fucking hot... _that_ was so fucking hot!’

She liked how he had felt in her hands, however briefly.  Rock hard but silky soft at the same time, the ridges of his veins, the sticky wetness of the precum oozing from him.  She wondered how he would feel her mouth.  Next time… she thought with anticipation.

‘I know he’s probably thinking it’s a disaster, but Gods.  Seeing him come like that, feeling his cock pulse within my hand…’

She only took a moment, wanting to return to him straight away.  She didn’t want him to think she had run away disgusted or horrified.  Her heart nearly broke when she saw him sat there shoulders sagged in defeat, head in his hands.

She handed him some tissue silently, then reached out to comfort him.  She wanted to reassure him but he was hiding from her.  She wanted to tell him it was ok, she understood.  After all _she_ had practically come as soon as his fingers were inside of her.  They had been tormenting each other for hours.  Months really once she thought about it.

Besides, they could try again later when he had recovered.

Instead of speaking she came to sit behind him.  Pressing her front against his back, her head resting on his shoulder, she wrapped her arms around his middle and held him to her closely.

“Sandor.  Please don’t hide from me,” she said after a while, kissing his shoulder, stroking his back soothingly.

“You seem upset?  Please don’t be.  It’s not a problem to me. I get why you might think it is, but it isn’t, honestly.  I liked it,” she told him as he lifted his eyes to hers.

“I enjoyed touching you, watching you… you were…” she trailed off with a blush, smiling and biting her lip at the memories of him come undone.  “I thought… we could maybe, try again later… if you want to.  I would like to. Only if that’s what you want though,” she hurried on hoping she hadn’t misjudged his silence terribly.

“You are fucking perfect,” he said leaning in to kiss her on the tip of her nose.

 

 

****


	8. Morning glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa decides to wake Sandor with a kiss. A very enjoyable kiss ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued feedback and support. You guys are awesome <3
> 
> Sorry this chapter took me so long. For some reason I just couldn't seem to start it and it took ages for me to find my groove. On the plus side of this you have some awesome future smutty chapters to look forward too.
> 
> But finally, it happened, and I'm actually pretty happy with the finished product. I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> As ever, I own nothing and write purely for fun.
> 
> ****

He woke to hair.  Masses and masses of lemon scented, red hair.  It was over his face, in his mouth, tangled in his beard, under his shoulder, across his chest.

‘Fucking hells.  Did she have this much hair yesterday?’ he wondered in amazement, pulling long, glossy strands from between his lips. He was gentle, so as not to wake her. 

He wasn’t sure when they had fallen asleep.  He remembers how they had laid down together, sweaty and naked and sated.  He remembers how they spent an age leisurely kissing and touching each other.  Gentle touches, reassuring touches.  Each telling the other how they had been secretly harbouring a crush for months, confessing all manner of naughty and innocent thoughts.

He gave an internal groan as he remembered her confession about how she had become obsessed with his chest hair. How one lesson she had been so preoccupied by these thoughts, that she had seriously considered finding a ruse to lure him to the store cupboard and ripping his top off to find out the truth for herself.  Fuck.  If he had known that then he would have chucked everyone out, middle of the lesson or not, and shown her for himself. 

He also recalled her tomato red blush as he asked her to describe, in detail, how she had got herself off to thoughts of his cock.

‘She’s a saucy little thing,’ he thought with a smile.  He couldn’t wait to find out even more about her, to explore her body and learn how to please her.  He would gladly spend his life dedicated to this study.

Gradually the pauses between their words had gotten longer, their touches slower and at some point they must have drifted off.

Now he could hear her soft breaths and feel the corresponding gentle puffs of warm air against his side.  It tickled.  Perhaps that was what had woken him, it can’t be time to get up yet.

Looking to the window he saw that it was still dark outside.  The only light was the soft orange gleam of the street lights outside, seeping in through the small crack in his curtains.  It wasn’t yet dawn. Relaxing, knowing he had a few more hours to cradle this precious woman in his arms, he savoured the peace of this moment.  Her weight, her warmth, her scent.

He was laying on his back and she was on her side curled up against him, her head snuggled up under his armpit, as his arm splayed across her pillow.  Looking down he saw how their limbs were entangled.  Her legs had wriggled between and under his.  He could feel the silky softness of her thigh resting tantalisingly on his inner thigh.  He felt one of her arms snug against his side, her other resting across him, her hand low on his tummy, dangerously close to his arousal.

Fuck. He was aroused.  Full and stiff.  Memories of her hand wrapping itself around his shaft assailed him.  He remembered how soft her skin had felt last night as she gently took him in her hand, feeling the gentle squeeze as she encircled him, the cup of her palm toying with his balls.  He saw himself twitch with arousal, a pearl of wetness already glistening at his slit.

NO! Now was NOT the time.  Fucking hells, he’d already spilled himself all over her like a green boy.  The last thing he needed was for her to wake up covered in his jizz and think he’d had a wet dream as well.

With a cringe, he recalled how quickly he had cum.  But he couldn’t help it.  He had been so incredibly turned on after tasting her, touching her, seeing and feeling her reach her pleasure on his fingers.  As soon as he’d felt her touch he hadn’t been able to contain it.  His orgasm had exploded from him without warning, leaving him a confused mix of aroused, embarrassed and ashamed. 

He liked seeing her delicate hands covered in his sticky cum, the way it dripped down the length of her slender fingers.  It was a sight that had graced many of his erotic fantasies about her.  But to know that he had lasted all of three seconds, and that was being geneous, was humiliating.  Pathetic. 

But she hadn’t laughed. Or got dressed and left.  He had been certain she was going to hot foot it out of there as quick as she could.  Eager to get away and forget about his disappointing performance.  That he would become a funny anecdote to laugh about with her friends.

But she had held him.  Kissed him.  There had been no judgement or disappointment in her eyes as she reassured him.  She had been so understanding it had blown him away, choked him up.  And then she had topped it all by saying she wanted to try again.  Her bright,blue eyes had only shown truth, happiness and... _hope?_

‘Only if you want to’ she had said.  Like she was doubtful on that front.  ‘ Mad little bird’ he thought with an amused huff.  As if he would ever _not_ want her.  He made a note to reassure her on that front in the morning when she woke up.

Gently he kissed the crown of her head and pulled her closer to him, still careful not to wake her.  Feeling her resting in his arms like this was the most wonderful feeling and he didn’t want to bring it a premature end.  Unlike last night. 

Fuck.  She wanted to try again.  He tried hard to ignore his cock and go back to sleep.

 

****

Sansa slowly woke, her senses kicking in one at a time.  First was the smell, quickly followed by the sensation of a huge, hairy, solid hulk of a man above her head, under her arms and between her thighs.

‘Mmmmm, he smells so good,’ she thought, taking a deep inhale and savouring the delicious scent… sweat, faint traces of bodywash and a smell that was uniquely him.

Enjoying his warmth she nuzzled deeper into his armpit, content and safe cocooned in his arms. 

He was on his back, one arm around her shoulder holding her to him, the other hanging off the edge of the bed.  One of his thighs was safely nestled between hers, the other raised in an A shape, bent at the knee and sprawling slightly to one side.  His thigh was firm and hard between hers and she had an urge to rub her slit up against it.  His tummy was taught and sculpted beneath her arm, his pecs were delightful mounds covered in soft hair with tiny pink nipples peeping through.  She wanted to nip on one.  She gently curled her hand resting on his tummy to stroke into the softness of the hair under her fingers.

Looking down Sansa saw with excitement that one part of him in particular was big and hard.

His cock was at full mast of morning glory.  She saw how his darker pink head was already poking out from his sheath, a small glistening blob of wetness already shining at his slit.  She licked her lips in anticipation of tasting it.

With a wicked smile curving her lips she decided to wake him up with a kiss…

Gently she detangled herself from around him, careful not to wake him yet.  She wanted him to wake up to find his cock halfway down her throat.  She had fantasised about his cock for months.  She wanted to worship it, to run her lips up and down, lick at him, suck at him, tease him and taste him. 

Just the sight of him had her wet, she could feel the dampness at the apex of her thighs.  If she could do this ok, if he could enjoy it, that would be the biggest turn on to her.  Feeling him enjoy her fucking him with her mouth.

Slowly she licked the tip of her tongue over his slit to taste that teasing, tantalising droplet.  Salty and sticky and very, very moreish.  Taking her mouth away to start at his root, she traced her tongue up his thick ridge to the sensitive little knot of tissue, ghosting her tongue over it.  Back down his length she went.  On her next ascent she latched her lips either side of his shaft, stretching her jaw wide.

‘Fuck, he’s got girth,’ she thought with a pulse to her womanhood.

Keeping her tongue firm against his ridge she ran her mouth up and down several times, each time stopping to tease that little knot.  She wanted to circle his full girth, in teasing licks up and down before taking him full into her mouth.

Pulling her mouth away she gently spat into her fingers before copiously covering his head and watching it dribble down his shaft. She moved her fingers and thumb in a soft massaging movement over his head, before moving up and down his length.  Each time she reached the top she circled her fingers up and over his head.

With her head cocked, she sucked up and down his length from the sides, her lips wrapping around as far as she could, her fingers using her spit to stroke the parts she couldn’t reach.

She felt his hips thrust and knew he was awake now, his hands landed lightly on her shoulders.  She was unsure whether he was going to try and stop her, or grab her head and push her mouth down to suck on him, urging her to stop the teasing.

She nudged the edge of his sheath back to reveal the ridge of his head.  She traced that ridge with her tongue, all the way around slowly, back to the little knot before sweeping back up over his slit to lap up his leaking juices.  Then back down to that little knot and repeating the move in the opposite direction.  Several times she circled his head like this, her hand cupping and moulding his balls as she did so.  They filled her hands, big and heavy and she loved the feel of them.  

He was groaning above her, his hips twitching and his hands fisted in the covers.

“Sansa! Fucking hells Sansa, what are you doing to me woman?” he moaned.

Deciding now was the point at which to take him into her mouth, rather than just teasing with lips and tongue, she slowly closed her mouth round his tip and gave a gentle suck.

Gods he tasted so good.  She twisted her tongue over his slit as she worked her lips down his length, taking him deeper and deeper into her mouth.  She worked at him eagerly, enjoying the sounds and twitches she was eliciting from him. She sucked on him like an ice lolly on a hot day.

“Holy fuck girl!” he shouted gripping at her hair.

This was so hot.  She had his thick, hard cock stuffed in her mouth and he liked it.  Pushing him down further, she felt him touch the back of her throat.  Ignoring the burn and the gag reflex she swirled her tongue, she was determined to hold him there for as long as she could.

His grip tightened and a growl left his lips. She sucked him for all her worth, her eager hands stroking and cupping his balls as she did so.

When the burn on her throat became too much she pulled back and released his length in a long plop, a string of slobber coming with it.

“Gods girl, you’ve got the best mouth I’ve ever fucked, you know that,” he praised her with awe.

Delighted in his praise she smiled widely at him, reaching up to place a kiss upon his lips.

“And hopefully the only mouth you’ll ever want to fuck again,” she whispered at him.

“You’d best fucking believe it Sansa,” he said seriously, gently holding her face to his.  His eyes were dark grey pools of desire but the truth shining in them shot right into her soul. 

With a nod in acknowledgement, not trusting herself to speak, she pulled away and kissed down his body.  Down over his chest, his tummy, onto his leaking head, right down his length she went.

Deciding to rest her jaw a little so she would have some stamina left to finish him, she instead lowered her face to his balls, wanting to lavish them with some attention, using her hands to pleasure his shaft as she did so. 

Taking his cock in her hands she worked him with firm, smooth strokes, her thumb teasing his sensitive knot.  Meanwhile she traced over the wrinkles and the seam of his sac with her tongue, licking and sucking at his balls, trying to fit one in her mouth.  But they were too big and she didn’t want to hurt him.  So instead she just continued sucking and licking, letting slobber drip from her mouth over them as she did so.  She rubbed the juice into the patch behind his balls with the pads of her fingers on her other hand, massaging that sensitive spot to a loud groan of approval.

“Sandor,” she murmured between licks and sucks as she worked her way back up from his balls, back up his length.  He had leaked copious amounts of precum and she eagerly gobbled it up, licking and swirling her tongue over his head and slit as she did so.

“Please can I finish you this way, would that be ok?” she asked him shooting her eyes up to his.

“Fuck yes,” he barked with a laugh, gazing down at her before seeming to reconsider.

“Sure you don’t want me to warn you first, so you can stop in time,” he continued, an uncertain look in his eyes.

“No,” she said simply.  She could tell he wasn’t convinced but also that he was having trouble holding this conversation whilst she still sucked and teased at him.

“But I don’t want to hurt you, what if I thrust or something, what if it tastes bad,” For all of his crude talk she could see the genuine concern blaze right through.

He was the best sort of a beast of a man, she decided right then.

“Please warn me if you want.  But I don’t want to stop.  You won’t hurt me, I can always pull back if I want,” she reassured him with a kiss to his tummy.  Then lifting her gaze to meet his eyes she made a point of stating very clearly,

“But what I definitely do want, is to feel you spill your cum into my eager, waiting mouth Sandor.  I want to drink you down,” she said.

“Sansa,” he said in a strained voice “If you keep up talk like that, then that end might come sooner than either of us want,” he warned with a growl his hips lifting gently to thrust at her.

In reply, she took him deep and sucked with gusto, her hands working at his balls as she did so.

She could tell he liked it, she could see his tummy tensing, feel his thighs flexing beneath her and gods the moans and curses leaving his mouth… it was making her cunt drip. 

He was moaning and thrusting up to meet her, but she could tell he was trying to be gentle still.

Letting him know it was ok, she reached her hands under his ass and helped, pulling him up towards her face, taking his cock even further down her throat.  He wasn’t fully in but he was deep.  She enjoyed it, even though the burn was intense.  She sucked and hummed around him, enjoying every moment.

“I’m going to cum girl… if you don’t stop… I’m right close,” he warned her.

“I mean it… you have seconds before my cum will be in your mouth girl,” he growled.  Half threat, half promise.

She hummed in acknowledgement and enjoyment, digging her nails into his ass.  She was promptly rewarded by the feel of his cock pulsing, shooting his cum in thick pulsing spurts right down her throat. 

When she felt his pulsing subside she pulled back, a few dribbles of his cum that she hadn’t been able to swallow down seeping out the corner of her mouth as she did so.  She lifted her finger to sweep it up and push it between her lips, sucking on the pad of her finger.  She stared him dead on in the eyes as she released her finger with a satisfied moan.  They were black with arousal.

“Mmmm.  That was soooo good.  You were delicious,” she said without thinking.  Then suddenly what she said hit her and she was overcome with a bout of nerves and shyness.  She felt the colour raise in her cheeks and across her chest in a flash of heat.

“I mean… I hope you liked it, that it was ok… that I did it right.  I’ve never done that deep before… I just wanted it to be good for you,” she started in a fluster.

He sat up and roughly pulled her to him, kissing her deeply.  He answered every concern she had with the sweep of his tongue and brush of his lips, the stroke of his hands up and down her back. 

She was sat straddling his thigh, her wet core pressing and dripping onto him.  Her chest was pressed firm against his, her sensitive nipples rubbing against his chest hair.  Their hands tangled in each other’s hair as they devoured each other. 

Pulling away breathless, Sandor pushed her hair back off her face.

“Well that sure beats an alarm clock.  Fuck girl.  If that’s how you wake a man, you can stay over more often,” he smirked, before flopping down taking her with him.

 

****


	9. Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's two weeks later and things are progressing 'too bloody slowly' for Sansa, so she is determined to take the initiative. But like all best laid plans...
> 
> Sandor has his hands full with the newest member of his spin class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I got completely bogged down with this one and couldn't get it to work for ages. But boom, today inspiration struck and hey presto!
> 
> And yes. I took great pleasure in stopping the chapter where I did *insert evil cackle*
> 
> I hope you enjoy x

****

In half an hour his class was due to start and all he could think about was seeing Sansa again.

Earlier on she had texted him, suggested they go back to her place after class. She had said she would cook and then they could watch a movie and chill.  He wasn’t sure whether she meant movie and chill, or ‘ _movie and chill’_. 

But he hoped.  They hadn’t had sex yet.  He wanted to.  He was ready.  So ready he thought he was going to die from anticipation.  But they had agreed not to rush and Sansa hadn’t tried to initiate it, even when he had left the opportunity and desire glaringly obvious, so he was letting her set the pace.  He didn’t want to push her.  But still he hoped that tonight they might… do it.

He smirked at himself for using such a childish expression. ‘Have sex. Fuck. Make love’ he reeled off to himself.  ‘I want to make love to Sansa Stark.’

The past two weeks had been a blur.  A red, intoxicating blur of Sansa.  A whole fortnight had passed since their confrontation in the lobby. The confrontation which had migrated to the studio, where it had taken all his resolve not to fuck the shit out of her up against this very mirror.

He felt his cock give a stir at the thought.  Imagining hoisting her up so her legs wrapped around his waist, thrusting hard and fast, their sweaty bodies leaving imprints all over the glass.  Gods he wanted her so bad.

During that time he had endured two tortuous spin classes.  He had hardly been able to tear his eyes away from her tits jiggling, her long legs pumping, her sweet, sweet ass as she stretched.  And the flush that rose in her face, surrounded by sweat dampened hair.  Gods, she looked just like she did after he’d made her cum and it distracted the fuck out of him.  Each time he told the class to ‘ride harder’ it brought sinful thoughts to his mind’s eye.  One lesson it had even gotten to the point where he’d had to take a ‘toilet break’, less Olenna spot he was sporting wood.

Outside of class they had texted.  What had started as general chit chat and asking about each other’s days had become subtle flirting.  Then not so subtle flirting, each of them getting more and more explicit in their desires.  And that last series of pictures she had sent him!  A coy look as she bit at her lip, the slight swell of her breasts just visible at the bottom on the shot.  Lacy black panties being pushed aside by her slender fingers, the barest hint of her slit visible.  They were better than any porn he’d ever seen.  It was _her_ posing.  For _him_.  That thought alone was enough to get him rock hard.  Then finally, the shot that sent him running straight to the shower.  The sight of her legs thrown wide, her folds glistening in juices, two fingers buried in her cunt.

Frequent showers had become a necessity to deal with his near constant state of arousal.  He would stand under the pounding water, tugging at himself furiously until he erupted in violent bursts.  Then, spent and panting, he would watch his cum wash away down the plughole. 

He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d brought himself to his own end, since _that_ morning two weeks ago. Oh Sweet Seven the memories!  Kissing her, the sensitive spot on her neck, right where that sweet little mole was.  Her breasts, so pert and silky soft with the most delicious little brown nipples.  The feel of her around his fingers, her juices dripping onto his knuckles, and her taste.  Gods, her taste was out of this world.  And she had tasted him in return, he thought with a suppressed groan. Her sweet, plump lips wrapped around his cock, the heat of her mouth as she took him deep, her tongue flicking over his slit, his cum dripping from her lips.

His cock gave another twitch as the memories assailed him.

‘Fuck.  Not now Clegane,’ he swore at himself, willing his semi hard-on to go away.  ‘For fucks sake.  Olenna Fucking Tyrell will be here any moment.’  She had joined his class, as threatened and was a bloody menace.  The last thing he needed was _her_ seeing him in a state of arousal.  Jesus the woman tried to cop a feel at every given opportunity as it was.  And he wasn’t going to invite more rumours to start. He’d already had Bronn congratulate him for bedding two women in one night and ‘The Queen of Thorns no less, kudos man. Kudos.’  He quickly put a stop to that one.  Seven fucking save him.  Still the rumour persisted like a good rumour does.  Just like the one that Tormund fucked a bear whilst visiting Canada last year.

He and Sansa had seen each other a few times outside of spin class as well.  Whether they had been to his apartment, walking through the park, or getting a quick meal together there had been kissing.  Lots and lots of kissing.  He would never tire of kissing her.  There had also been more  touching and groping.  He had fingered her to completion several more times and she had returned the favour with both her hands and mouth.  He had eaten her out in the store cupboard right behind him when he couldn’t even wait to hit the showers after one particularly tantalising class.

But he wanted so much more with her.  Sex.  And more. 

He stood in front of the mirrored wall assessing himself critically.  He was wearing his usual gym gear, nothing special about that, but he had taken extra care to ensure it was his newest set and that it was freshly washed. 

He flexed his biceps and pecs, then lifted his t.shirt and tensed his abdomen.  He was pleased with what he saw.  His muscles were large and well defined but not obscene.  Dark hair generously coated his chest and ran in a thick seam downwards to the waistband of his underpants, promising more further down.  Pulling the waistband outwards slightly he took a peep at himself.  Sure enough, his cock was nestled in a dense patch of hair.  He wasn’t the sort to shave his balls bald like some ponce. Fucking hells no! ‘Men have hair,’ he thought with a derisory huff.

Yes, his body was what most women would deem ‘hot’ he thought with pride.  He was masculine, no doubt about that.  Well built, hairy, big.  Even flaccid his cock was well proportioned and he knew he was what women considered ‘well hung’. But his body was his only asset.  Besides he wasn’t interested in ‘women’.  The only person that mattered to him was Sansa.  Impressing her.

Allowing his waistband to snap back against his stomach his eyes moved to his face.

He sighed.  What did she see in him?  Deep ridges and fissures marred the left side of his face, his eyebrow was gone and even his ear was mangled.  The scars were red and angry looking in places, worn and leatherlike in others.  If he turned his profile just so, they were less visible, but he still had a hooked nose and hooded eyes.

‘A regular picasso,’ he thought derisively.  Even without the scars he would only be average looking at best.  Without the looks, he was just big and hairy with a ruin for a face.  He certainly wasn’t built for a maiden’s dream.  ‘And it isn’t just my looks,’ he mused. 

She had been right in her scathing assessment of him. Even if her rant had spiralled into a lust filled grinding session.

He _was_ as asshole.  Awkward.  Painfully so, which made him blunt and rude.  He didn’t mince his words.  He was rude and crude.

He fidgeted impatiently, his fingers automatically moving to rearrange his hair.  Positioning it carefully in the vain hope that it would hide the travesty of his face.  After his shower he’d even gone so far as to use some shite foam he’d seen advertised on the TV, aimed at bald cunts with dodgy comb-overs. It was supposed to have some magic ingredient that would ‘ _increase the follicle size and hair shaft diameter_ ’.  Sounded like fucking viagra for hair.

‘Like any of it will make the blindest bit of difference,’ he thought wryly. ‘I’ll still have a face like a torched ham, there’s no fucking miracle cure for that.  You can polish a turd all you want, but it’s still a turd.’

But still, he wanted to try.  He wanted to impress her.  Be someone that she wanted to be with long term, not just a short-lived fling.  Be someone worthy of her.

Fuking hells!  He needed to get out of his own head before he set himself into a foul temper.

****

She was sweating buckets, she could feel it dripping down her back and between her breasts, causing her t.shirt to cling to her in the damp patches.  She felt hot and sticky and disgusting and she was sure her hair was a frazzled mess from the humidity.  For some reason Sandor was working them particularly hard but that wasn’t the only thing causing the flush on her face. 

His arm and leg muscles were flexing in the most delicious way, taking her mind to other activities which might cause them to flex in a similar manner.  She felt the heat sear across her cheeks at the thought.  When she glanced up it was to find his heated gaze searing into her.  Her heart nearly stopped and when he bit his bottom lip it turned her insides to a quivering wreck.

The past two weeks had been wonderful.  But also torture.  That first morning they had decided not to rush things.  Neither of them wanted this to be just a one time thing.  So they had decided not to see how things develop naturally.

Right now the only thought in Sansa’s mind was ‘too bloody slowly!’.  They hadn’t had sex yet.  They had done pretty much everything else and she loved it, but she was she was so sexually frustrated with taking it slowly.  As good as what they did was, and it _was_ good, she was desperate for more of him.  She was ready for next step.  Beyond ready. She wanted to feel him claim her fully and to claim him back in return.  To fuck each other senseless.  To make slow sweet love.  She was hungry for all of it.  Starving.   

But so far he hadn’t pushed things and she had followed his lead.  Several times she had been close to taking the initiative, she had even thought that he might want her to.  In fact the other night when they were sitting together watching some unrememberable film, it had taken her every effort not to push him back, climb on top of him and ride him furiously. 

But each time something had held her back.  She knew what it was.  Her bloody old fashioned belief in being ‘proper’.  Although there was very little ‘proper’ about the sinful things he promised to do to her.  Nor in the way she longed for him to follow through.   Cursing her mother and her ladylike upbringing she channelled all of her frustration and angst into her high intensity burst, her legs pumping as furiously as her mind.

But tonight she was determined to take the initiative.  That was why she had texted him earlier, suggesting a cosy evening at hers after class.  She had cleaned the place top to bottom, pre-prepared what he had told her was his favourite meal, brought his favourite Dornish Red, put on her best bedding and created an appropriate mood music playlist on her phone.  It was also why yesterday she had spent an obscene amount of money at a lingerie shop, buying a bustier and scandalously indecent matching panties. 

Then her mind wandered to a darker thought.  What if he had changed his mind about her, but didn’t know how to say so.  What if found her dull and boring.  She felt a cold dread seize her and she lost the ferocity of her pedalling. 

‘No,’ she reasoned with herself. He wasn’t lacking interest, their other activities were testament to that.  ‘He’s trying to be all gentlemanly when all I want is for him to be a dirty, rude, beast and to fuck the shit out of me already,’ she thought.

Suddenly his voice brought her out of her musings.

“I want to see you all riding hard” he instructed, leading the class into an evil hill climb. 

All she could think about was riding him hard… tonight in her bedroom.  Her legs straddling his hips, his cock buried to the hilt in her sopping wet cunt.

“Sansa!  Focus!” he growled.  His gaze pierced her, silver eyes alight with mischief. He shot her a filthy wink.

‘He knows!’ she realised ‘and he’s doing it on purpose’ she fumed in outrage.  Well, two can play at that game!

Leaning forward in an impractical but provocative manner, she gave him a prize view of ‘those beautiful teats’ that he’d so enjoyed groping and nuzzling the other night.  Enjoying the spark of lust, rapidly followed by panic in his eyes, she upped her pace.  For once she was thankful for the jiggle in her ample bosom.

“Yes Ser!  Anything you say Ser!” she said breathlessly, fluttering her eyelashes and squeezing her arms together to give an un-needed boost to her cleavage.

She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, his grip tightening on the handle of his bike.

‘Ha!’ she thought triumphantly shooting him a less than innocent smile.

Then he gave her a panty dropping smirk, a subtle incline of his head.  A nod in acknowledgement… challenge accepted.

‘OH!’

***

“Yes Ser!  Anything you say Ser!”

Fuck me if he didn’t nearly spill in his pants right then.

‘Right Stark! Game on.  You want to play, we’ll play.’  He shot her his most sinful leer and thought about what his next move would be.  He wanted to make her blush, turn her so red she resembled one of those blasted strawberries she liked to eat.

But the next voice to speak was as effective as a bucket of ice water in damping his desire.

“Oh, should we be calling you Ser?” asked Olenna.  “I like that.  Yes, very good.  A man with authority. Very motivating. Very motivating indeed.”

“I concur,” said Sansa smirking at him and shooting Oleanna a wink.

Keen to tamp whatever this was down, Sandor fired back with the only weapon he knew; sarcasm and snarky humour.

“Just you wait Granny.  You won’t be able to handle half of what I’ve got planned.  And I don’t tolerate slackers.  In my class you sweat.  So you better get your legs pumping or I’ll boot your arse back to MMA.”

“Mmmm, mmmm. I _love_ a good workout.  I’m sure I’ll work up a nice sweat for you,” Olenna shot back saucily as she increased her pace.

The sight of her lycra clad body wobbling as she furiously pedalled her legs was enough to shrivel his cock right up.  And whatever sales person thought it acceptable to sell her the same sports bra that Sansa had been wearing _that_ week ought to be taken out and shot.

“That’s not riding.  Pathetic. Harder!  Faster!” he shouted.  The moment the words left his mouth he knew it had been the wrong thing to say.

“Yes Ser!  I’ll ride hard and fast, just how you like,” she said a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.  He was out-mastered and he knew it.

“Shut the hell up and ride.  If you can breathe well enough to flap your gab... you’re not working hard enough!” he growled.

For a few blissful moments there was silence, bar the whirring of the spin wheels and the huffs and pants of the class members.  Thinking her needling was over he started to relax and had just allowed his mind to wander back to Sansa, whose tits he happened to notice were bouncing in _the most_ divine way.

“Ser! Ser! I’m afraid my legs are feeling quite raw.  Are you sure it’s meant to be this hard?  And to chafe his much.  Or is that special to you?”

Sandor nearly choked on his tongue.  The nerve of the woman.  There were now quiet sniggers reverberating around the class and Sansa had flat out stopped pedalling and was gripping her sides in mirth.  What the fuck was going on.  Instead of feeling in control and running a strict class, he felt like he had been transported into the middle of a ‘Carry On’ movie.

“Shut up and ride!” he near snarled at Olenna, shooting her a venomous look. 

Sansa he would deal with later.  He could think a few prize ways to discipline her.  ‘Now is DEFINITELY not the time Clegane!’ he shouted at himself. 

“Oh I love to ride, as you know,” Olenna intimated “but I’m afraid that if you push me any harder you’ll break an old woman.”

Seven Fucking Hells was there no end to her innuendo.  How the fuck had Bronn and Tormund not strangled the shit out of her before now?

“Don’t worry.  Ser Sandor knows first aid,” blurted out Sansa, unhelpfully. 

WHAT!?  Did she really just?  He closed his jaw, which had literally dropped open at her nerve and he shot her a scowl, but she just bit her lip and turned away.  She was trying to hide her giggles he knew, but it was evident in the gentle shaking of her shoulders that she was having a good laugh at his expense. 

How dare she encourage her! She knew the rumours circulating about him and Olenna.  No doubt fuelled by the old crone herself.

“Oh really.  He’ll give me mouth to mouth you say….”

“Right.  The next person to open their trap will have to do an extra 5 minutes of hill climb,” he threatened, not knowing what more he could do to shut the old bag up.  Bar throwing a dumbell at her head but he was pretty sure that contravened the gym’s health and safety rules.

“I don’t know about hills, but there’s something I’d like to climb.”

FUCK MY LIFE he thought.  This class couldn't be over quick enough and right now it had very little to do with his planned cosy night in with Sansa.

*****

The journey back to hers was tense at first and they sat in silence each brooding over their own thoughts.  Sandor was in a grump after the teasing and even though it had been Olenna doing the unsettling, she still felt guilty for her small role in it. 

At first she had been amused seeing him blush and becoming increasingly flustered at Olenna’s double entendres.  But as he had become increasingly growly, instead of bantering back with snide, sarcastic comments, she realised that he was more than unsettled.  It had shown her a side to him that she hadn’t seen before.  Insecurity.  Vulnerability.  She regretted her part in it now.  She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. 

‘Poor Sandor,’ she thought.

But then she remembered the look on his face when Oleanna suggested she would like to climb him.  It had been do damned funny she couldn’t contain herself any longer and she burst out giggling.

“Oh Sandor! Your face when Olenna suggested climbing you like a tree,” she wheezed in laughter, tears streaming down her face.

“Laugh it up girl.  Laugh it up.  You won’t find it so funny later on when I have you at my mercy, begging for relief,” he growled at her with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Yes Ser!” she replied in her meekest most conciliatory, yet sultry voice.

Just like that, the tension broke and for the rest of the infuriatingly slow journey, they were shooting each other heated looks.  Sansa could feel a tension of a different sort building.

***

Her front door had barely clicked shut when they fell upon each other.  Sandor pushed her back against the door and kissed her fiercely.  His lips forcing hers apart, his tongue demanding entry to her mouth.  His hands started ripping at her damp t.shirt as his hips pinning her to the door.  He pressed his arousal against her belly, leaving her in no doubt as to how worked up he was.

He hoisted her up and her legs automatically wrapped around his waist as her top fell to the floor in shreds.  Their hips were grinding together frantically, their mouths licking and nipping at each other, hands desperately trying to remove each others clothing as quickly as possible.  Her bra was next, followed by his shirt.

She was tugging eagerly at his waistband so he pulled back and set her down, just long enough to rip his shorts and boxers down in one move.  Sansa used the opportunity to rid herself of her shorts and panties.  For a moment they both stood still, naked in her hallway, taking each other in with hungry eyes. 

She was a vision.  A goddess.  His eyes moved over her.  He auburn hair wild, eyes midnight blue pools of desire, lips swollen from their bruising kisses, her neck slightly reddened with beard burn, pert breasts tipped with perfect brown, pebbled nipples just begging for his mouth to claim them.  Sweeping his eyes lower, he took in her flat belly, narrow waist and the gentle flare of her hips.  The juncture of her thighs and the neat strip of auburn there. 

Fuck!  He felt his cock twitch at the sight and just knew he was leaking for her.  He wanted her.  Here.  Now.  

With a lunge he grabbed her and hoisted her up once more, pinning her against the door.  She matched his desire, kiss for kiss, nip for nip, grind for grind.

“Bedroom,” he heard her say through kisses.  He promptly pulled her away from the door and walked them down the corridor to her bedroom.

They fell naked on her bed, still sticky and sweaty from the spin class but neither cared.

She moaned beneath him, her hands holding onto his muscular arms as she raised her thighs to grip his flanks.  He could feel the silky softness of the skin of her inner thigh rubbing against him maddeningly.

The shift of her legs allowed his cock to press up against her sopping wet slit.  He rocked his hips in languid thrusts, his length gliding through her silky folds, rubbing back and forth over her nub.  It was heaven, his naked cock touching her cunt, but he wanted more.  He was greedy for her.

Encouraged by her low moans and gasping breaths, he pressed a little firmer, moved a little faster.  Sansa cried out at the change in pace and lifted her hips to meet his, causing his cockhead to nudge right up against her opening.

He paused his movement at the sudden, sharp intake of breath he felt her take.  Time seemed to stand still as he waited, his cock hovering right there.  _Right fucking there_.  Gods!  He was desperate to push in, to feel himself sink into her wet, warmth.  To grind his groin against hers, to fill her.  Their breath fell across each others faces in hot ragged pants as each waited for the other to say something, _do_ something.

 


	10. Gratification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will he push in? Will he pull back? Will Sansa jump his bones? Who knows?
> 
> Read on to find out at your own pleasure :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm kind and didn't want to leave you all on 'the rudest cliffhanger ever' for too long.
> 
> WARNING - this chapter is loooong and full of smuff.
> 
> (you're welcome)
> 
> ***

Her carefully thought out plans - dinner, mood music, the slow and sensual seduction - had all gone out the window the instant the front door had shut and they had fallen on each other in a desperate frenzy.  But it was so fucking hot she didn't care one whit.

His touch was like fire, leaving her skin tingling in his wake.  Deep, passionate kisses driving her mad and _Gods_ the sensation of his long, hard cock pushing through her folds was enough to drive her insane with need.

“Sod the chicken,” she moaned aloud between kisses “and sod Barry,”

Sandor stopped kissing her and raised a brow, “Barry?”

***

“Barry?”

'ahhhhh,’ he remembered. She’d had a romantic evening planned. ‘chicken dinner, candles, music.  I bet she means that singer... White.’

He was used by now to her random outbursts at the most unlikely of moments.  Then it dawned on him that a delicious opportunity had presented itself.  He decided to tease her, to get his revenge for earlier at spin class.

Internally congratulating himself for his quick thinking he turned his tone and gaze icy.

“Should I be worried about competition Little Bird?  You thinking of another man with me between your thighs?  Because if that's the case…”

Immediately her eyes widened in horror and he had to bite back his smirk.

“Because if that's the case,” he talked over her as she tried to start explaining herself.  

He resumed his sliding against her cunt.

“I feel it only fair to _warn_ you…”

At this he made sure to firmly rub himself against her nub.  He had to hide his smile when it had the desired effect when her eyes rolled and hips twitched.

“...that I’m about to ruin you for all men.  **_Ever_**!”

Her eyes widened even further, comically round, her mouth falling open into a perfect little 'O’ as she emitted a squeak.

“Oh! Oh my… Sandor…” she stammered.

He worried it was too much, he’d been too forward, too brazen. Too presumptuous.

'Of course it's too fucking presumptuous Dog,’ he started to berate himself.

Then she began attacking his lips with fervour, dragging him back down against her with her surprising strength.  Their hips were moving together, causing his cock to glide against her sopping cunt in a way that could easily bring him to his end if he wasn't careful.

He responded to her moans and sighs, his movements becoming more urgent.  Then she lifted her thighs to cradle him and he was right there, _right fucking there!_

_****_

She could feel his cockhead just pressing the smallest amount against her hole.

All it would take is the gentlest of pushes, she was so wet he would slide right in.  She could feel it in her mind's eye.  The satisfying push of his cock filling her, stretching her.  Gods how much she wanted it.  Needed it.

She couldn't help her intake of breath in anticipation, waiting for him to push forward.

But he was waiting, hovering. 

Neither of them saying anything. Neither of them moving.

‘Why isn't he moving?’ She thought. 'His cock is right there. _Right fucking_ there.’

The anticipation was killing her.  The silence _._

‘He's still not moving!  Why isn't he moving? Oh Gods… she panicked.  But suddenly her mind clicked.  _'I_ want this.  _I_ am was a fully grown woman and _I_ can take the initiative, damn it!

“I want you,” she breathed, her hands desperately clinging to him.  “I’m ready.  Please Sandor, I want you so much.  Please.”

“Sansa,” he breathed in reply. Then he let out a loud groan and pulled back.

“We shouldn't,” he finally rasped.

She was flooded with an overwhelming swirl of emotions.

Shock. Disappointment.  Rejection.  Shame.  Embarrassment.

****

“We shouldn't,” he heard himself rasping, every fibre of his being protesting against the blasphemy leaving his mouth. 

Gods he wanted her so badly but he hadn't got any protection with him.  He cursed at himself.

‘Fucking hells! What a fucking moron! Why _the fuck_ didn't I think.’

He didn't need her to tell him her thoughts.  Her eyes showed him as  clearly as if he were watching a movie.  He saw the desire drain from them to be replaced with surprise, disappointment, hurt, and something he couldn't place.

He realised then that she really did want it as much as he did.  He groaned in frustration.  He could be claiming her right now if he wasn't such a _moron_.  His lizard brain wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and go ahead anyway, but the rational, thinking part of him said 'don't be a selfish prick.’

His rational brain won.

“We can't,” he said determinedly.  “I don't have any protection.”

At this she started twisting away from under him, reaching to one side.

'Fuck fuck fuck fuck….’ he panicked.

“It's not that I don't want to Sansa.  Gods I want to. _So fucking much_.  You have no idea how much I want you and the fact we can't is agony, not least for my balls.  Part of me wants, to say ‘fuck it’ but it wouldn't be right. I…” 

Then to his surprise Sansa slapped a condom against his forehead.

“If you feel you need it, but I’m on the pill, clean and I trust you,” she rattled off.

“Now fuck me!” she commanded.

*****

He slowly, steadily pressed forth into her. 

FUUUUUCK!

Tight. Hot. Wet.  Soft. 

She felt fucking glorious.  He could have cried with the sheer bliss of it.  Her cunt was tensing and relaxing around him as she adjusted to his girth, she was breathing rapidly, bringing a flush to her cheeks, her breasts rubbing deliciously against his chest. 

“Sandor!” she gasped “Oh Gods, you’re big, much bigger…”

He smirked.  Now that he liked hearing.  It sang to his primal ego, knowing that her tight cunt was being filled by his cock. 

“Yes girl… damn right I’m big.  _You_ get me big and so fucking hard Sansa… _so_ _hard._ You make my cock weep with want for you girl… sometimes I think it’s going to explode from wanting your cunt… wanting to fill you up… fill you with my cum…” he said between sinful sucks and kisses on her pulse point as he slowly pressed forth into her deeper and deeper.

“You want that?”

“Yes, oh Gods yes Sandor,” she breathed “please, please,” she moaned as he pressed a tantalisingly slow trail of kisses down her neck to her chest and her nipples.  Her hard, pointy nipples that were just begging his mouth to claim them.  The nipples that had provoked this whole thing by peeping out of that damnable sports bra.

He gave her cunt a chance to adjust again, sucking and licking at her nipples as his memory was assailed by every filthy, arousing image he had ever had of her, of them.  His arousal surged even more, if that were even possible.  It was already taking every ounce of his self control not to lose it and fuck her like an uncontrollable animal, ravishing her until he had marked her as his with his seed.

“Good.  Because I’m going to fill you fit to bursting… fuck you good and proper until you scream my name as you cum on my cock… then,” he rasped at her, his voice rough with arousal, “then, I’m going to give you my cum… watch it spill out of you.”

Her eyes darkened at his crude talk and he felt his balls clench in response.

Fuck! He was only just over halfway in and already dangerously close to spilling his load.  Just the thought of filling up her tight hole with his cum was almost enough to push him over the edge.

‘Gods No.  Don’t let it happen again,’ he thought, desperately trying to reign in the pulses from his tightening sac.  He needed to calm himself.  He wanted this to last, for both of them.  ‘Think unsexy thoughts... Olenna… Olenna setting Bronn’s crotch on fire’.

He swiped his tongue over her nipples as he pushed the last part of his length into her in one swift thrust until he was buried to the hilt.  His balls gently smacked against her arse as he ground his hips up against hers, and he let loose a satisfied groan.  

Her thighs were gripping him tightly, her nails clawing desperately into his shoulder.  She let out a loud cry when he bottomed out and bucked up to meet him, edging him even deeper into her. 

‘I’m making her feel good… she’s liking my cock!’

Fuck she was so tight.  Her soft walls were gripping his entire length like a vice and it felt _so fucking good_.  Slowly he withdrew, her juices giving him a satisfyingly slick glide, before he thrust firmly back in, full hilt, in one smooth motion.  

“Sansa,” he groaned into her ear in satisfaction, “Fuck girl, your cunt’s tight.  So bloody beautifully tight….”

‘Gods! Her cunt is the sweetest thing there is,’ he thought, pulling back only to ram himself back in, quickly repeating the move again and then again.  He was in bliss.  Her stiff little nipples were rubbing his chest, her thighs gripping his flanks.  The sweaty tendrils of her hair brushing his cheeks as he nuzzled her neck, sucking and kissing at her pulse point with a fervour that was sure to leave a bruise.

He raised his pace, now moving his lower body with his thrusts, enjoying the feel of his balls smacking into her ass as he buried himself each time.  Oh and the noises!  The obscene wet slopping and slapping sounds, their grunts, huffs, groans and whimpers.  

“Sansa, Oh Sansa. My beautiful Little Bird… Sansa, Sansa, Sansa” he muttered, her name falling from his lips as if it were a prayer.

“Holy Mother!  You’re big,” she breathed, her fingers clutching his biceps, nails digging in as she took quick, shallow gasps.  “I’ve never, not like you before… it’s bigger… I’m just so full…”

She whimpered.

Panic flooded him like ice water being poured down his back.  She didn’t like it, she wanted to stop.  He had been so carried away with his own passion he hadn’t noticed and it made him feel like the lowest scumbag and brute.  Shame flooded him.  He immediately started to pull out, trying not to allow disappointment to overwhelm him, he stamped it down determined not to let her see.  He didn’t want to hurt her!  He didn’t want her to feel emotionally beholden to do this because he wanted to. 

“Sandor...what?...” she said tightening her thighs as if to stop him pulling back any further.  “Why are you stopping?” she asked, her brows twisted in a frown. “Is something wrong?”

Her blue eyes were so dark they looked like the midnight skies, they were beautiful and mesmerising.  But it was the concern that shone through that nearly floored him.

“I’m not too much for you?... you’re ok?” he asked hesitantly, praying with every fibre of his being that he wasn’t... that she was.  He wanted to carry on so badly.

“No.  Yes,” she answered simply, pulling him back into her with her heels.  Then she giggled.

She actually giggled.  A beautiful sound of levity that dispersed the tension and worry like hot water melting ice.  He huffed a laugh and kissed her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as he did so. 

He started to move within her again, her tightness creating a delicious friction.

“I’m better than ok… it’s good... really, really good…” she said.

He wasn't sure whether to be offended or not at the tone of surprise.

“I was just saying that you, your cock… this… it’s better than I ever thought it could be Sandor....  I didn’t realise I could feel like this... with a man, you know... with his cock inside,” she tried to talk through his kisses.

She was babbling.  At any other time it would be adorable.  But right now?  Right now he wanted to fuck her brains out.  He moved his mouth to suck on her nipple to a delighted squeak.  He laved at the hard little nub, lost in thoughts of how bloody perfect she was as worked himself in and out of her.  Sansa still murmured above him in stilted sentences, every so often trailing off as if she had lost the thread of her thoughts and...

‘Wait! What the fuck?  Is she still talking about other cocks?’ he suddenly registered.

“Before it’s been… they weren’t like you… and their cocks… they were smaller… so I didn’t know how deep… and they didn’t have the veins and…”

He swooped down to kiss the words from her mouth.  He DID NOT want to hear about other cocks that she had experience with right now.  He didn’t want her _thinking_ about other cocks right now.  The only cock he wanted her to think about was his… filling her up.  Actually correction.  He didn’t want her able to think full stop.

“Sansa, will you shut the fuck up and let me fuck you already,” he rasped, grinding his cock firmly into her for emphasis.

****

Their lips clashed together, tongues tangling in a frantic fight for dominance as they rocked and pushed against each other in an increasingly desperate rhythm.  He filled her and then pulled back, the friction rubbing against a wonderfully sensitive spot inside her.

It had never felt like this.  She was lost in bliss.  Lost in him.  All that existed for her was him. His smell, his taste, his harsh ragged pants and whispers of ‘Sansa’, ‘Little Bird’, as he kissed fervently at her neck.  And his touch set her alight. 

She felt tiny encased in his strong arms, his fingers knotted in her hair as he cradled her head.  His body damp and slick with sweat, sliding and slapping against hers.  Soft dark hair tickling her face and neck, the rough brush of his chest hair against her sensitised nipples, the slam of his hips against hers as he pounded into her at a relentless pace. She was being driven mad by desire. 

She was building towards something.  Something blissful that was maddeningly just out of reach.  So close.  So close. She gripped his shoulders, her body moving with his as he pushed her ever closer towards the edge.  The tension coiling in the pit of her belly like a snake.  She was teetering, ready to fall and fly apart.  She curled her hands around his shoulders clutching herself to him, to ground herself, afraid that if she fell she wouldn’t stop.

She thrashed her head restlessly side to side, her back arching up, her entire body taut as a bowstring.

“Come for me Sansa,” he rasped looking into her eyes in desperation.  “Let yourself go. Trust me, please.”

It was his eyes that undid her. 

****

He could feel her body becoming increasingly tense under him, her cunt fluttering and gripping him as he brought her towards her peak.  Her head was restlessly twisting side to side, her hair a glorious riot of red, damp and sticky with sweat.

She was glorious.  This was glorious.  It was the best sex he had ever had.

‘No,’ he thought in a moment of sudden clarity.  ‘This goes beyond fucking, it’s more.  Much more.’  He felt as if his soul was melding with hers.

This thought, along with the way she suddenly clutched herself to him a desperate cry leaving her lips, had him so close to spilling.  But he gritted his teeth, used every last ounce of strength he still had to hold out, to last.

She was so close, he could tell.  Her body was so taut he was afraid it would snap.  Her cunt tightening around him like a vice.  If he could just last. 

He needed to feel her cum. On him.  Around him.  It was vitally important for some reason.  He wanted, _needed_ , so much to give her that pleasure. He moved desperately within her, wanting so much to push her over that edge, but something was holding her back.

“Come for me Sansa,” he rasped looking into her eyes in desperation.  “Let yourself go.  Trust me, please.”

He didn’t mean to say it, his mouth was speaking the words of his thoughts without his consent.  

Then he felt it.  Her tension shattered and she let loose a primal, guttural cry.

Her cunt clenched hard, near strangling his cock as her climax ripped through her.  Hearing her primal cry of pleasure, feeling her nails digging into his back and her cunt rippling around him… that was it, he couldn’t hold back any longer.  He gave one final deep thrust and that was all he needed to send him into his own orgasm.  With an animalistic grunt he came with a force that near blew his mind.

His cock pulsed deep within her, filling her with his seed, her quivering cunt milking him of every last drop.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for laughs I'll share the working title for this chapter because it still makes me snigger... 
> 
> 'A Cockalicious Orgazmatron'
> 
> Thank God inspiration (and google thesaurus) struck at last minute.


	11. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansan prepare for their six month anniversary.
> 
> Sansa has an embarrasing encounter in the personal ailse.  
> Sandor comes over all literary.  
> And introducing Tywin - has Olenna met her match?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and comments. Please keep them coming, it really motivates me.
> 
> A light and fluffy interlude before we hit smutsville guys.
> 
> @mynameisnooneya I have included a special paragraph just for you, you'll know it when you read it ;)

****

It was their six month anniversary.  For weeks she had been thinking about the perfect date, but in the end she had kept returning to her original idea from six months ago.  A romantic roast chicken dinner, followed by ‘movie and chill’.

What she really planned to do was tell Sandor that she loved him.  She had known it for a while, but tonight she was going to say it out loud to him for the first time. So _everything_ had to be _perfect_. 

She had spent the day cleaning her place top to bottom, airing her best bedding, selecting romantic music and movies… it was almost like deja-vu.  Except that this time he was bloody well going to listen to Barry White godsdammit!

A massive smile spread across her face as she remembered how her first carefully planned ‘date’ had gone awry.  But she couldn’t be cross, after all it had ended in a passionate lovemaking session.  That had been the first time they’d made love and Sansa had never known she could feel like that with a man.  But Sandor wasn’t just any man.  He was her Sandor. 

Thoughtful and caring, he genuinely wanted to know about her day and didn’t just ask out of bland courtesy.  Humorous in a dry, slightly cynical, snarky way.  Protective she smiled, remembering how he had taken care of that creep Baelish at the gym. Sexy and passionate yet also gentle and loving.  Perfect. 

If it hadn’t been ‘too soon’ she could have told Sandor she loved him then and there. 

‘Focus Sansa!’ she told herself.  There was only two and a bit hours left before Sandor got in from work and in that time she needed to grab a few last minute supplies, cook the meal, set the table, have her shower and get ready.  To make sure that she didn’t run late or miss anything out, she had devised a colour-coded, meticulously timed to-do list. 

‘Right now that list is off to a bad start,’ she thought as she eyed the long queue at the checkout in dismay. She had precisely 15 minutes in which to finish her shop and get back to her place.  The chicken needed to go in the oven at 4:35pm exactly so that she could start her shower at 4:38pm. Any later and it would eat into time allocated elsewhere.  Makeup and hair were no go; not if she wanted to tame her frizz properly and pay due attention to contouring and blending.  No.  She _did not_ want a repeat of ‘Clowngate’. 

There was no margin of error.  4:35 prompt!

Flinging a few last minute extras into her basket, she was about done and ready to head to the checkout when she glanced upon the personal aisle.  She hesitated a second, debating internally with herself.  Then giving a hasty glance over her shoulder to check there was no one about, she hurried down.

“Gods sake Sansa get a grip.  You’re a grown ass woman and should be able to buy condoms without falling apart in humiliation,’ she chided herself internally.  But the fact was it wasn’t just condoms... it was also… ‘ _lube’._ She felt herself colouring up just thinking the word.

Sandor mentioned her ass pretty frequently during their lovemaking and she could tell the idea of it turned him on.  He’d never asked her outright but she knew he would like to try it.  Biting her lip Sansa thought that she might not mind trying it either.  The thought definitely excited her, aroused her.  Gods he would get her so wet with the imagery he placed in her mind.  Her ass full of him, leaking him.  It was kinky.  Naughty. _Daring!_ A side of her that she hadn’t known existed before.  A side that only came alive with Sandor.  He made her feel totally at ease to be her true self.  

Her body reacted to him instinctively, she didn’t need to think or worry about whether she was reacting in the ‘right way’, she could just be.  He elicited responses that she didn’t even realise she was capable of.  The smallest, gentlest of touches could weaken her knees.  Hecks, even just his voice had the power to make her tremble.  And the way he used his hands, mouth and body to bring her pleasure, filled her with a fierce, burning, consuming need.  She pictured his naked body, shiny and damp with sweat, muscles flexing as he made love to her.  Imagined the rasp of his voice against her ear as he talked dirty to her.  Gods!  She needed to get off this train of thought as she felt a stab of desire pulse in her womanhood.

But never had he been repulsed or embarrassed by her passion.  In fact the opposite was closer to the truth, her wildness and desire only ever inflamed him.  She felt the heat of a blush rise to her cheeks as she remembered the claw marks she had left on his chest when she had ridden him last night.  She had even drawn a little blood and her cries had been loud enough to wake the dead.  All the while he had been encouraging her ‘good girl... that’s it ride me... use my cock... take your pleasure... good girl…’

Perhaps she reacted this way because she had never felt so desired, so _worth_ desiring.  Gods he made her feel worshipped, like she was the maiden incarnate - well perhaps not _a maiden_ she thought with a smirk.  The way he looked at her, held her, touched her, all of it told her how he felt, how he _loved her_? 

‘He loves me,’ she thought in sudden realisation.  ‘Does he though?  Could he really be in love with me?’ she wondered.  She thought so.  It was clear in the way he was with her.  Like she only showed her true self to him, the same was true in reverse.  She saw a Sandor that nobody else did.  The gentle, kind, loving Sandor that would do anything for her.  He watched Legally Blonde with her and painted her toenails, that’s as good as declaring his love right?

Suddenly Sansa realised she had been stood in a daydream in front of the lube section.  She was no longer alone and was getting lascivious looks from the guy next to her.  Determinedly avoiding eye contact she glanced at her watch. 

‘Oh shit.’ She only had 8 minutes left.

‘Focus Sansa!’ she told herself looking at the vast array of different condoms and lube.  Pleasure pack, magnum, fantasy, extra ribbed.  She didn’t have a clue what she was buying.  And did she want ‘extra tingly’ lube or glitter lube?  She suspected not, not if it would be going _there_.

A nervous giggle exploded from her at the thought of Sandor’s face seeing her crack covered in glitter. ‘What the fuck you been doing girl?  Your ass looks like it’s been ravaged by a Christmas Elf in a glitter factory,’ in his growly voice.

But would they? 

It’s not like she wasn’t prepared if things did venture that way.  She had even returned to ‘Lady Melisandre's’ to get her bits waxed to surprise Sandor.  Her cheeks burned at the memory of her positioned on the beauty table in doggy position face smooshed sideways onto the pillow.  Holding her own asscheeks apart as Melisandre slathered her in hot wax and ripped at her crack… Sweet Maiden! She had been tomato coloured and unable to make eye contact when paying.

But the embarrassment would all be worth it if Sandor liked it she thought.  She couldn’t wait for him to peel off her tiny panties and see her down there, all bald except for a small auburn patch on her mound… to feel how incredibly silky and smooth she was.  She hoped it felt good for him.

It had for her this morning.  What she had intended to be a brief, perfunctory check on the state of her post-wax soreness, had ended up being a leisurely and enjoyable exploration. ‘Well, one needs to be thorough,’ she thought.  After all, it wouldn’t do for Sandor to find a stray hair or come across a sore patch right in the middle of intimacies.  Bah! Who did she think she was kidding?  In truth she had marvelled at how different it had felt without hair, how effortlessly her fingers slipped about her folds without that friction.  How everything seemed to be so much more sensitive.  Or perhaps that was just her thoughts of Sandor and their anniversary night. 

Looking down at her watch and seeing her timeframe had now slipped down to 3 minutes she didn’t have time to mull it over any longer.  To lube or not to lube...

‘Oh blast it!’ she thought grabbing a bottle off the shelf and shoving it in her basket along with a box of condoms.  They didn’t usually use them, but perhaps he’d feel different about her ass.  Bloody hells! Her cheeks were _burning_ and she was sure she must be positively crimson.  She felt as if everyone in the entire shop could xray into her brain and see the filthy thoughts running through it.

“Sansa!”

‘No!  Of _all_ the people!’  Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath she said a quick prayer for patience.  Plastering her brightest smile on her face she turned around.

“Mr. Varys, fancy bumping into you?”

“Indeed my dear Sansa, what a delightful surprise,” he said unctuously, bowing at her as if she were royalty. 

She saw his eyebrows shoot up as he caught sight of the contents of her basket. 

She knew that he would be seeing the condoms and lube.  Looking down herself her eyes widened in horror.  It was worse.  Much worse.  Sat atop her basket, proudly on display to the world was an extra large box of ‘ _Trojan Magnum_ ’ condoms and sitting next to them strawberry flavoured ‘ _Juicy lube’_.  Cheeks ablaze she wished the ground would open up and swallow her. 

“I’m afraid I can’t stop to chat Mr. Varys, I’m running short of time....”

“Ahhhh yes.  Your six month anniversary I do believe?” he interrupted her.  “Well 25 weeks and 3 days, but who’s counting,” he said chuckling slyly.

He blatantly stole another look at her basket.

 “Well, it looks like you two have a _special_ evening planned.”

“Just a romantic meal, chi…”

_He picked up the lube!_ Sansa’s jaw fell open in shock, horror, mortification.

“Ahh now the strawberries make sense.  I did wonder why I saw Sandor with a punnet the other week.  I’ll have to remember that,” he said taking a little notebook from his pocket.

Sansa wasn’t quite sure why he felt the need to remember her lube flavour preference… ‘not that it even is my preference... I’ve never tried the stuff before.  It’s just there in case and the flavour is a pure coincidence... WAIT…. Why am I explaining myself _to myself… in my own head_????’

“I’m afraid I really must go Mr. varys,” she said spotting an opening at the checkout and hurrying off.

“Yes, yes.  Don’t let me keep you.  You must be eager to get started.  Good night Sansa,” he said bowing once again before shuffling off.

Looking at her watch Sansa decided to pick up a pre-roasted chicken.

 

*****

He was dragging the spin bikes out into the room ready for his last class of the day, thank the Gods!  Tonight was his six month anniversary date with Sansa and he’d been able to think of little else all day.  He knew she had something special planned, that was the reason she wasn’t here this evening, she had ‘last minute errands’ to run.  He supposed he could allow her one class, seeing as he knew the workout she’d likely be getting later riding his cock.  Hmmm, he hoped one of those errands included sexy underwear.  A bustier or corset perhaps?  He nodded to himself, visualising her ample bust almost over-spilling the straining laces as her breathing got more frantic, him slowly, sensually undoing those laces.

‘Cool it Dog, you’ll have an audience soon. 

Reluctantly dragging is mind away from Sansa’s teats, he thought about the preparations he had made to make it special for her.  He had got flowers, a bottle of that sparkly crap she liked to drink and a special order of lemon cakes from that posh french bakery she liked.  The one where he couldn’t pronounce the names of half the items and those that he could got mangled by his rasp.  Fucking hells! _‘Tartio-siton’_ he cringed in memory.  At least Sansa hadn’t been there to witness his humiliation.  It had taken all his restraint not to smack the smug french bastard, Hot Pie, right in the face when he had ‘helpfully’ repeated his order back with the correct pronunciation and a fucking fancy accent to boot.  Cunt.

Slamming the storage door shut, he stood feet apart, hands on hips, his head hanging as he took several deep breaths.  His nerves were running rampant and it was setting him on edge.  But he needed to calm down, it would do him no good to get worked up before class is even started. He had 45 minutes of Olenna to survive…

“Oh my dear, you do seem to be worked up.  Perhaps you ought to _pound out_ some of that _frustration,_ hmmm?”

‘and speak of the devil...’ he thought snarkily, pinching the bridge of his nose.  Always first.  She was always fucking first here!  ‘All the better to torment me,’ he thought, feeling his ire rise.   ‘Square breathe Sandor, square breathe,’ he heard Sansa’s voice in his head.  He took another minute to allow his irritation to abate before turning around to start battle.  He wanted to be on his game today.

“Olenna,” he nodded curtly and was about to come up with a suitably snarky reply when the words were stolen from him.  She had reached over and was patting his chest, flexing her fingers over his pectoral muscle and blatantly eyeballing him up and down.  ‘No. No!... that’s not patting, that’s squeezing... and that’s not my chest anymore.’ 

Shoving her away, he hurriedly stepped back out of reach of her grasping hands.  This woman was a walking sexual harrassment suit.  Outrageous!  But there was no way in all the blazing seven hells he was going to face ridicule for complaining about being manhandled by a ‘sweet, little old lady.’  I mean it was laughable, six foot six him being intimidated by a five foot bag of wrinkles.  ‘But if only they knew her,’ he thought in a huff.  She was ruthless, relentless, razor sharp and remorseless. 

Ha! Some good alliteration there he thought, which made him think of Sansa and the strange little grammatical games she liked to play if she was having trouble falling asleep.  He would much rather find another, more enjoyable way to wear her out, but he could refuse her nothing.

“Ooooo, you really are tense.  Perhaps you need a _good rub_ ,” she said quirking her eyebrow as if in offer.

How does she do it?! Every.  Single.  Bloody.  Lesson.  She outdoes herself. 

Suddenly the door swung open as more people arrived, thank the Gods! 

“Tywin!”  he heard her whisper in a way that chilled his blood.  He almost felt sorry for the old Lion for being in Olenna’s crosshairs.  Almost.

He watched in amusement as Tywin marched proudly across the room in his ridiculous lycra cycling outfit as if he were some bloody Olympian.  Sandor thought he looked like a frog, with his spindly legs and slight paunch.  Bloody ridiculous, he was the walking definition of a mamil.  His amusement grew when he marched right past Olenna to the very opposite end of the room. 

“Oh Tywin, cooo-eeee, I’ve saved you a bike next to mine. Shall we show these youngsters what we’re made of?  I bet a fit and virile man like you can go for hours.”

He nearly laughed out loud at the look on the old Lion’s face. He looked like a cat had just shat right under his nose.  Then Tywin narrowed his eyes, looked her up and down as if assessing his opponent, before nodding curtly as if satisfied with what he saw.  

“A lion does not concern himself with the opinions of sheep,” said Tywin in a surprisingly deep, velvety voice. He gave Olenna a shrewd look.  “And neither do you,” he finished mounting his bike and busying himself adjusting the pedals and handlebar height.

“Well as an authority on myself I’m afraid I have to disagree.  Come Tywin…” Olenna began when Tywin cut her off mid-sentence with a piercing gaze.

“And yes Madam... I can go for hours, shall we?”

‘Oh. My. Fucking. Gods.  Was that a smirk?!  Holy, heavenly shit that was definitely a smirk.’

Olenna was dumbfounded, unsure whether he meant to start the class or something else entirely.  Heck, he wasn’t sure either.  Whatever it was, he couldn’t drag his eyes away, fascinated at the exchange playing out before him.  ‘It looks like Olenna has finally met her match,’ he thought smugly.  Perhaps, at long last, he might be off her hook.

Sneaking his phone out he texted Sansa quickly…

_So interesting development… the old lion just pissed all over the thorn bush...and unless I’m very much mistaken, both rather enjoyed it?!_

The reply was instantaneous.

**_LB:_ ** _What!!!! OMG. You are kidding right!? Please say you’re kidding._

_Nope. King Kermit for a Queen of Thorns.  Quite fitting don’t you think LB?_

**_LB:_ ** _Kermit?_

_Tywin - Mamil extraordinaire - looks more like a bloody frog than a lion in his lycra get up.  Oh and you would be proud of the alliteration I came up with earlier when describing QoT… I’ll leave you to guess what LB._

**_LB:_ ** _HAHAHAHA.  Oh BTW, I ‘bumped’ into Mr.Varys at the shops earlier.  Forewarned is forearmed._

Poor Little Bird.  He could only imagine what a ‘delight’ that had been for her. 

**_LB:_ ** _still recovering… shudder shudder shudder._

At the end of her last message was a string of emojis.  A shocked face, angry face, a green vomit face and… was that an aubergine?  Strange Little Bird.  He was about to put his phone away when it vibrated again. 

**_LB:_ ** _Can’t wait to see you later xxxx_

He shouldn’t have looked.  Below the text was a selfie, she had clearly just got out of the shower.  Wet hair still dripping, water droplets running down her decolletage, but not far enough... He groaned feeling himself harden at the sight of her, teats just tantalising out of view.  His mind immediately filled with delicious thoughts of what they might be doing ‘later’.

“Any time today Mr. Clegane.  Time is money!” boomed Tywin snapping him back to the here and now. 

It was going to be a long lesson.

Thankfully he was proved wrong.  The rest of the lesson passed quickly and without incident.  Olenna and Tywin had kept each other occupied with verbal sparring of the likes he had never witnessed before.  They truly took it up a notch and were still bickering as they left, Olenna departing as soon as the lesson ended for once.  She even forgot her usual phoney question in order to corner him alone.  Not that he was complaining mind.  He avoided being molested and it allowed him to get away on time so he could grab a shower at home rather than at the gym. 

He was on his way to Sansa’s now, flowers,wine and lemon tarts safely stowed on the seat next to him.  He couldn’t wait to see her.  His mind crept back to that selfie she had sent earlier of her dripping wet… he wanted her dripping wet in the bedroom too, he thought lewdly.  He wanted her juicy cunt so sopping it dripped down onto him when he sat her on his face.  Gods!  The thought of lapping her honey like a greedy dog whilst she rode his face was stirring his dick. He’d already emptied his balls in the shower to take the edge off his lust, but it seemed where Sansa was concerned his libido was boundless. 

‘Gods it’s warm in here,’ he thought knocking the air conditioning up.  He pulled at the collar on his shirt.  It felt constricting and he really wanted to take the buggering thing off, but he had made the effort to dress up for her in shirt and smart trousers. She wouldn’t be expecting it he thought.  She knew he didn’t own ‘fancy shit’.  He had been and brought this outfit specially.  He had been assured by the sales assistant that it was, ‘most becoming and brought out his eyes’, whatever the fuck that meant.  He didn’t give a rats cunt so long as Sansa liked it.  

He thought of her blue eyes lighting up when she saw him all smart in his dress shirt and trousers, her little hands unbuttoning his shirt, slowly running her fingers over his chest, moving lower to his zipper, taking out his cock…. He groaned and deliberately made himself change the track of his thoughts, less he turn up on her porch with his shirt half undone and his dick tenting his trousers.

He was here.  Taking a deep breath he walked up the path, flowers in one hand, gift bag in the other.  He kicked at her front door and waited.  He could hear her pulling the bolt and chain back to let him in.  His stomach was in turmoil, it felt like he’d swallowed a box of frogs the way it was jumping about.  The palm of his hand holding the flowers, began to stick uncomfortably to the cellophane wrapper.  Bloody hells get a grip man, it’s only Sansa not a bloody firing squad.

The door opened and he felt his jaw fall open.  She was… she looked... she...

“Hello Sandor, come in,” she said pecking his cheek gently, a waft of perfume assailing him. 

“Sansa,” he croaked out, his voice hoarse.  He coughed to clear his throat before trying again. He was rooted to the spot just absorbing the perfection that had answered the door.

Sapphire (eyes).  Scent (divine) Slinky (dress). Stunning (hair). Sublime (Sansa). Sexy (Sansa) Scandalous (underwear) or rather _lack of_ he noted with excitement _._ She can’t possibly be wearing a bra, he could see her nipples budding through the sheer fabric of her dress from here. 

He suddenly realised he was still stood on the porch despite her inviting him in.  Quickly he stepped inside and began apologising for standing there in a stupor, gawking at her like a moron.

“Sorry Sansa. So sorry sweetheart.”  Gods he was fixated on S’s now.  He was really on his A-game with the alliteration today.  ‘My old english tutor would be proud of my progress under Sansa’s tutelage,’ he thought inanely.  ‘Why?’ he cursed at himself.  Why would he think of Mr. Baratheon now?  He had been a grammar nazi and the last imagery he wanted in his head right now was remedial english class, Stannis Baratheon or Nazis. Or any combination of the three.

Flustered he shoved the flowers and gift bag at her with a grunt.  The flowers smooshed right up against her face and she had to bat them away with a gentle laugh.  Gods he felt like such a green-assed-boy tonight for some reason.  And she looked so happy, he didn’t want to spoil her efforts with his bungling.

“Hope you’re hungry?” she asked leading him inside.  The table had been set immaculately and candles were everywhere… he laughed… Barry _fucking_ White playing in the background.  He remembered their first time and realised how natural things were between them now, that there was no need to feel awkward.  This was his Sansa.

“Starving,” he said licking his lips and eyeing her predatorily.  He wanted her to know just exactly what he wanted to feast on the most.


	12. "Finger in the bum?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a highly charged anniversary dinner, events take a very steamy turn...
> 
> Sandor lives a fantasy.  
> Sansa makes her deathbed confession. 
> 
> This chapter is almost 3000 words of pure smut. I make no apologies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - this chapter is very NSFW right from the get go. 
> 
> It features explicit Sansan 'back door' action, predominantly from Sandor's POV so it's a touch (ok, perhaps a lot) crude, but it's all fun and consensual. However, if it's not your cup of tea then please don't read. 
> 
> For those brave souls who wish to continue... I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Author recommendation - title to be read in Euron's S7 voice when he's taunting Jaime about Cersei, just because that bit made me laugh so much :D
> 
> Right so now you've been warned, I'm off to hide under a rock ....

****

Sandor was pounding her like the dog he was, Sansa bent on all fours beneath him, submitting to the pleasure his cock could bring.  His hips pistoning furiously against her, unleashing two hours of pent up desire and frustration.

Dinner had been a cat and mouse game of non-physical foreplay.  Each heated look, each brush of their fingertips, each loaded comment, had steadily built the sexal tension until it was palpable, ready to snap at any moment.

For _two hours_ Sandor had been tormented by the shape of her teats in that damnable slinky dress, her nipples peaking through the sheer fabric.  Hypnotised as Sansa twirled a tendril of hair over and over, her deep auburn glowing copper in the flickering candlelight.  For _two fucking hours_ he had resisted the temptation to rip her fucking dress off and suck that juicy nipple into his hungry mouth.  Withstood the urge to wrap his hands in her silky tresses, pull her head back and plunder her mouth with a heated kiss. 

When Sansa bit into one of her lemon tarts, he watched it crumble...  watched her gently push the gooey crumb back between her plump lips, sucking the sticky residue off her slender finger, releasing a satisfied hum… that was it! His restraint had snapped.

In a haze of lust they had stumbled to the bedroom, ripping at each others clothes until they had fallen naked on the bed.  Wasting no time, Sandor had flipped Sansa over, yanked her hips up and sheathed his cock in one powerful shove.

He was now balls deep in her sopping cunt, fucking her hard and fast.  He could feel his end racing upon him.  Not wanting it to be over so soon he ripped his cock away, eliciting a pitiful cry from Sansa.  Fingers firmly gripping the soft flesh of her thighs, he held them spread wide.  He dropped to his stomach, tilted his face up against her pussy and decided it was time to eat his dessert.

Sandor allowed Sansa only the briefest of respites to recover from her orgasm, before dragging her back to her knees to mount her once again.

Gods she was a feast for his senses.

The air was filled with the slapping of skin on skin and the wet slopping of her cunt as he rammed himself in and out of her relentlessly.  The not so subtle thump of the headboard knocking into the wall. Her breathy little sighs and throaty hums of satisfaction causing his blood to thrum in his veins.

The air reeked of sex.  Passionate, dirty, slightly rough sex.  A heady mix of their sweat and the scent of her arousal.  It was driving him wild, inciting him to fuck her harder, faster.

He’d just feasted on her swollen pink slit.  Lathed his tongue at her sweet little nub, lapping greedily at her juices as they dripped down his face.  His beard was still damp, her musk scent lingering, making his mouth water.  Licking his lips he could still savour the taste of her honey; rich and sweet.  Better than any lemon cake from Hot Pies.  Fucking delicious!

And what a fucking sight she was!  Her silky hair cascading off her shoulders like a fiery waterfall, pooling on the sheets below.  _His_ fingermarks blooming on her hips and thighs.  Beads of sweat dampened between her shoulder blades.  His gaze tracked one droplet as it trickled down the graceful curve of her spine to pool in the hollow of her back.  He traced the route with his tongue, dipping into the little divot right above her ass, savouring the saltiness of her exertion. 

_Her ass!_   Sweet Seven, her pert, peachy ass bouncing in front of him… a peach that he really, _really_ wanted to take a bite out of.  _Taste_. 

Gods he had to see it.  Biting his lip in anticipation he slowly ran his thumbs down her seam, prising her cheeks apart, opening her up to his gaze.  ‘Fuck! What a sight!’  A perfect little puckered star. 

His palms squeezed her firm cheeks in a spike of lust.  Transfixed he watched his thumb brush ever so lightly over her hole.

FUCK! 

She was even more tantalising than he had imagined… and he had imagined this scene _a lot_.  Countless times rude and crude and filthy thoughts about her ass had brought him to his solitary end, and now here he was, looking at it in the flesh.  Touching it.  He felt himself throb within her.

He ran his thumb over her again, applying the barest hint of pressure to test her reaction.  A thrill shot through him like lightning as he watched it tighten and pucker in reflex.

‘She hasn’t pulled away!’ he realised, a bud of hope blossoming inside him.  Emboldened he started to rub firm circles, wondering if he dared ask her for what he wanted. 

Sansa let out a sharp gasp but he was quick to reassure her.

Slowing his harsh thrusts, he instead savoured the delicious friction as he dragged his cock in and out of her in long, slow, almost lazy strokes.  Bracing one hand on the bed by her shoulder, he curled his front flush against her back, their slick bodies rubbing together.  Nuzzling into her sweaty hair he whispered just below her ear, so close his lips were brushing against the sensitive spot on her neck as he spoke.

“Your asshole is a beautiful sight Sansa.  It gets me so fucking hot… thinking about touching you there... licking you there.”  He ground as deep into her as he could to emphasise his point.

He felt her shudder at his words, letting out a small hum of… arousal?

His dick pulsed within her at the thought of running his tongue over that tight little hole, tasting her, probing her gently until she softened and granted him entry.  Watching his fingers, _his_ _cock_ , stretch her open.

“Hmmm?  Would you like to try that?” he asked, trying desperately not to allow his voice to betray the plea that it was. 

“Sansa?” he asked, when he felt her silence had gone on a beat too long for his comfort.

She groaned nonsensically into the pillow.

Still unsure if she meant yes or no, he didn’t do anything further but nor did he remove the thumb that had been gently resting atop her forbidden entry.  He rose back up to his full height and resumed his thrusting, gripping her hips tightly he enjoyed the sight of his cock pumping into her cunt, slick and shiny with her juices.

He was so fucking turned on he couldn’t help himself, he _had_ to touch it again.  Tentatively he once again spread her cheeks wide, opening her up to him.  He began stroking his thumb in eager but gentle strokes over her tight little hole.

“Little Bird?”

Sansa moaned and pushed back against him, shyly rubbing herself against his thumb.  Heart pounding with excitement he increased his attentions.  Rubbing firm circles, pressing into her ever so slightly, just a fraction, only enough for the tip of his thumb to slide into her opening. He felt a jolt of arousal surge through him at the breathy little moan she released. 

“Fuck, Little Bird… you’ve got me _so_ fucking turned on right now,” he rasped, his voice rough with his arousal.

He began to fuck her harder, slamming himself into her. He was buried to the hilt, her cunt gripping him like a fist.  She was moaning and writhing beneath him, pressing her cunt back against his shaft, meeting him thrust for thrust.  As her moans came louder and more desperate, she pushed back harder and harder, each thrust pressing his thumb further into her resistance, until not only was her cunt greedily swallowing his cock, but her asshole began to open up as well. He felt his thumb slide deeper until he was buried up to his first knuckle.  

If he thought her cunt was tight, her ass was impossibly so!  Gods it felt amazing, the damp, hot, soft inside of her ass gripping him tightly.

And the sight!  He almost felt drunk from the heady rush of seeing her tight star yield to his thumb.  Watching her pale brown, puckered hole stretching open around him, revealing her soft, pink inside.  Seeing his thumb slowly disappear inside her, one thrust at a time, a bit further, a bit more…. 

Sansa’s breath caught in a stuttering gasp, but her dripping cunt pulsed deliciously around his cock telling him it excited her.  He could hardly believe it.  She was letting him play with her ass!

‘Fucking hells!’  His cock was harder than chinese algebra.  Growling he gave a firm thrust into her, to let her know just how fucking hot this was… how very, _very_ turned on he was.

She let out a shocked squeak and he immediately stopped, held his breath, waiting... waiting.  He was ready to pull away entirely at her indication, but instead she let out a deep moan and continued to push back against him, her cunt clenching tightly in response.

His groan of satisfaction was more akin to a broken whimper.  He could feel his cock throbbing inside her, his balls aching for release.  Sansa’s breathy moans and little cries, the way she rocked her hips back and forth, her dripping cunt pulsing around him… she was as turned on by this as he was!  She was enjoying this!  That thought alone nearly had him shoot his load.

He wanted more.  To push in deeper, give her ass the more that she was clearly ready for, but too shy to vocalise.  But he needed to do this right.  Allowing her to ram back on him now, unprepared, would hurt her and forever put her off.  He didn’t want either of those things.  Gods no.  He wanted to fuck her sweet, _sweet_ ass until it was leaking his cum.

At the loss of his thumb she let out a small whimper of dissatisfaction, akin to the one she made earlier when he ripped his cock from her cunt.

‘Fuck, she’s liking it!  She’s _really_ liking it,’ he thought in awe as he watched her shove her ass backwards looking for his finger again.  He pressed soothing kisses to her neck and shoulder as his mind raced with anticipation and excitement.

‘ _Fuuuuuck_ , she might actually allow this… want this,’ he realised.  He gave another deep thrust and had to hold himself still, deep inside her, clenching his own ass to try and not release from the intense imagery and arousal flooding through him at his thoughts.

After calming himself he resumed at a slower pace, holding her hip tightly to steady her needy thrusts.  He reached round eagerly to her dripping folds to gather some of her juices for lubrication.  He moaned in pleasure as his fingers slipped and played in her juices, pools of it drenching his fingers right up to his knuckles.

‘She’s fucking dripping.’  He’d never known her to be this wet before.  He took a moment to feel her lips stretched wide to take his cock.  Then he traced his fingers over her clit, teasing and stroking her hardened little nub.  With each ministration he could feel her quim twitching in response.

With his fingers dripping in her juices he reached backwards trailing up along her crack, spreading her juices as he went.  Knowing that he would be using _her_ arousal to explore _her_ arse was the horniest thought of his life. 

Using one hand to prise her ass cheek wide and open her up to him, he admired the view.  So tight and tiny.  A beautiful puckered rim glistening in her juices, ready for him, wanting him.  Gods he wanted to claim that hole.  It looked delicious.

Withdrawing his cock from her, he lowered himself down to get better access to her glorious ass.  He smirked at her vocal protest, but soon shut her up by quickly lowering his mouth to her and licking.  She tasted of her arousal… delicious.  He eagerly lapped at it, running his tongue teasingly along her puckered seam, gently probing at her entry to try and gain access. 

A loud, muffled moan emanated from the pillows as her body bucked in response to his tongue’s caress, causing her to thrust her ass up against his eager mouth.  So fucking hot!

Gripping her ass cheeks he held them wide as his nose burrowed between them, his tongue licking and stroking at her.  Increasing his intensity in tune with her writhing and moans, he was sure he could feel her rim softening to him, pulsing.  That was when he realised she had her fingers buried in her cunt, playing with herself as he ate and worshipped her ass. 

“Sandor, I need more!” she cried grinding back on his face, shoving her ass crudely against him in need.  His arousal flew sky high, his cock leaking and pulsing. 

She’s dirty.  Rude.  Supremely hot and bloody perfect in every way.  _Mine_ he thought with a fierce stab of possessiveness. 

Ripping his mouth away he rose to his knees and claimed her cunt once again, thrusting right to the hilt in one hard shove.  They both let rip guttural groans.  Both of their ends were near.

He wanted to make her come.  Feel her clench on his cock whilst his finger was buried in her ass.  He quickly swiped his fingers through her folds again, to generously recoat them.  He wasn’t fool enough to believe this would be easy, her virgin ass was going to be _tight_.  It was unbroken and he would be the _first_ , and if he had his way the _only_ man to do this with her.

Slowly he stroked over her aroused asshole, teasing small circles around her entry, lightly pressing the tip of his thumb into her, easing his way in.  All the while matching the softness of his touch with his thrusts.  At each groan of her pleasure he raised his pace, fucking her harder, faster, bringing her closer and closer to her peak.  The harder he fucked the more she pushed back in response, crying out and moaning, her resistance steadily giving way to his thumb… to slip deeper, deeper.  Up to his first knuckle… past his knuckle…

“Oh Gods Sandor... it feels good... a little more… ”  she cried breathlessly pushing back against him harder. 

His mind was racing, his balls were tightening.  Her cunt was was pulsing relentlessly against his cock, her ass tight and hot around his thumb, her mouth singing him a beautiful song of moans and whimpers as she rocked back against him urgently.

“More… please Sandor, please…”

Eager to oblige he pressed forth, his thumb stretching her open, pushing deeper into her heat.   Until suddenly, her hole gave way and he slid right in!  Fucking hells, his thumb was fully buried, right up to his second knuckle.  Tight, so very, _very tight_.

‘Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!  Does she know?  She must know.  Fuck!’ his mind raced.

Encouraged by her greedy moan, he began to thrust his thumb back and forth in rhythm with this cock. He could feel her walls tensing and then relaxing as they adjusted to the foreign invasion, and gradually he built up the pressure and pace until he was finger fucking her ass.

“Oh gods… Sandor, Sandor, Sandor, Sandor,” she cried over and over as...

‘FUCK!’  

He felt her cunt clench and spasm around his cock as she wailed her peak, her back arching up.  She bucked wildly, pressing her ass firmly back onto his thumb, her already tight hole gripping him in vice-like, pulsating spasms as her cunt sucked at his cock. 

That did it.  His already fraying control snapped and he came with a roar, his cock pumping her full, spurt after spurt after spurt.  He had never come so hard or long in his life.

Thankfully he retained just enough presence of mind to roll to the side before collapsing in an exhausted, exhilarated heap, scooping her heaving body into his side as he did so.  Chest heaving he kissed the crown of her head, inhaling her sweaty scent with satisfaction.  A few last thoughts just managed to drift into the edges of his awareness before unconsciousness took him.

‘She’s perfect.’ 

‘I can’t believe my bloody luck.’

‘I just finger fucked her ass and she bloody liked it.’

‘So fucking perfect.’

‘She’s amazing.  I love her.’

****

Sansa was snuggled against Sandor’s side, idly drawing patterns on his heaving chest with her fingers.  But her languid caress belied the fact that her mind was racing a million miles an hour, thinking on all they had just done.  That he had fingered her ass!

There had been a slight stinging as she felt herself first stretched apart, but nothing too bad and to her surprise she had quickly adjusted.  The pressure and stretching as his thumb slid steadily deeper had been oddly enjoyable and as her lust grew she hadn’t been able to stop herself from pushing back against him wantonly.  And the feeling of fullness when he had fully slid in had been sublime. She rubbed her thighs together at the throb of pleasure that echoed in her womanhood.  Gods, it would be so easy to kindle that spark.

Yes.  It had definitely been enjoyable she concluded.

But it hadn’t just been physically good, it had also been an intense emotional rush.  It had felt wicked, exciting to be doing something taboo.  The risk, the naughtiness, rewarded with pure pleasure.  Like when she had stolen lemon cakes from the boarding school kitchens that time, only better.  Much better.  At first she had felt shaky, breathless, wondering ‘will he’ with anticipation and just a hint of trepidation.  That had rapidly been followed by shock and wonder that ‘oh my gods yes, it’s happening, he’s really doing it, we’re really doing it.’  Then all thought had disappeared and she had been consumed by pleasure and lust. 

The whole experience had been hot and horny and she had been so incredibly turned on.  But most of all by the fact that Sandor was enjoying it!  She loved hearing his satisfied grunts and groans, ragged pants and crude talk.  Knowing that he enjoyed her, that what they did pleased him was the biggest turn on ever.

But what did he think? Truly think?  He seemed to like it.  But what if he’d just got carried away and was actually disgusted?  What if he had hated it?  Her pulse began to race as self doubt flooded her and she began to fidget nervously.

She wished she was brave enough to ask. 

“Dragon for your thoughts Little Bird,” she heard him rasp against the crown of her head as if he had been reading her mind.

They had been laying in silence for a while and he was probably having a similar mad rush of thoughts as she was she realised.  But how could she possibly voice what she had just been thinking?  It was so embarrassing!  I mean what does one say? ‘Hey Sandor, sooooo how did you like shoving your thumb up my shitter?’

A sudden horrid thought trespassed unwelcomely into her happy afterglow.  What if he had got... _stuff_ … on his finger.  Oh gods.  He had licked her! What if he was so disgusted he never wanted to see her again.  A choking, clammy panic clutched at her throat. 

She felt hot and sweaty and began fidgeting nervously, trying to wipe her palms discreetly on the bedcovers.  Her pulse was racing, causing blood to pound in her ears.  Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest she worried that she might actually have a cardiac arrest.

“The Coroner's report!” she yelped in panic.  She could see it now; _‘Cause of death:  Cardiac arrest precipitated by anal fingering’_. 

“Gods what will mother think?!”

And Sandor!  She couldn’t die without telling him she loved him.

Heart hammering in her chest she took a deep breath, steeling herself.

“I love you Sandor.”

 


	13. Love, laughs and lube

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansan confess their love. It's full of fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I love you (and because it's done and ready to go) today is going to be a double update!
> 
> The first is full of fluff. Tooth rotting fluff with a side order of dense potato and humour pie. Oh and a hint and promise of future smut.
> 
> The second delivers that promise... and will be winging it's way to you later tonight.
> 
> Enjoy and please do leave comments - they give me life :)

****

Happy and sated Sandor lay with his Little Bird curled up into his side, his fingers lazily tracing patterns across her back and shoulders as she did the same to his tummy.  He couldn’t remember ever feeling so content.

He loved her.  Everything about her.  He had for a long while, ever since their confrontation at the gym.  The truth of the fact was clear and certain in his mind and heart. He desperately wanted to tell her, but he wanted her to know that he meant it.  Not have her think it was some rash response to a sexual high.  He would take her out this weekend, do something special.  A proper old fashioned date with all the bells and whistles.  Satisfied with his plan, he could think on the details later.  Right now he wanted to enjoy holding her warmth in his arms, inhaling her sweet scent and receiving her gentle caresses.

His peaceful afterglow was disturbed when he felt Sansa starting to fidget next to him. She only usually did that when something was bothering her, he thought with worry.  He felt her anxious jerks and shuffles become more and more insistent, and wondered what could have gotten her so worked up.  He hoped that she didn’t regret what they had just done, but he knew her well enough by now to know that she would probably be freaking out about letting him play with her ass.  ‘Probably thinking it improper or some shit like that due to her prudish upbringing,’ he thought with irritation.  He needed to reassure her, but first he needed to know exactly what thoughts were running through her pretty little head.

“Dragon for your thoughts Little Bird.”

Ice filled his veins when she drew back from him and he saw the extent of her distress.  Sansa looked like she was having a full blown panic attack and was about to pass out any second. Her  face was red and blotchy, strands of fiery hair sticking to her damp forehead and her chest was heaving as she gasped for breath.  But worst of all was her eyes... eyes that usually looked at him so full of trust and warmth were now darting about wildly, looking everywhere… everywhere but… ‘me’.  A cold stab of fear knifed deep into his chest, causing him to jolt as if he had been stabbed with an actual blade.  Panic flooded him.  Was she in pain? Had she hated it?  Been disgusted and wanted to stop but too afraid to say so?  A million worries descended upon him at once with a crushing force. 

Helplessly he watched her flounder in her panic, mumbling agitatedly under her breath.  He couldn’t make out what she was saying but he could tell from the twist of her frown that it wasn’t good.

By the Stranger he had never felt more guilty or worried in his life.  _He_ had caused this! Seven Hells!  He needed to calm her the fuck down.  He needed to hold her.  Instinctively he reached for her, to pull her into a soothing embrace and whisper reassurances to her, but suddenly he was stopped in his tracks...

The coroner, what the actual fuck?!  

Her mother?  Flaming seven hells.  He was just about to say it was none of the nosy crone’s business and besides he didn’t plan on telling her unless she did…?  Is that what this was about?  She’s worried her mother, or more likely her father and brothers, will come after him?  He held back an indignant sniff.  Surely the Little Bird knew he could take care of himself.  But then his memory very helpfully decided to recall that she never did mention exactly what happened to her last boyfriend, Harry.  She just said their relationship was ‘terminated’ after a _talk_ with her father.  He thought she meant she spoke with her father and ended things.  But perhaps...  Terminated… fucking hells he’d never paid much attention to her odd choice of phrase before.  Terminated… _terminated_ … fucking hells is that why she needed a coroner?  Was her dad some sort of hitman, part of the notorious northern mafia. 

Bloody hells her panic was contagious. 

Taking a deep breath he tried to calm down.  ‘There’s no way her old man’s a killer you daft old cunt.  Get a fucking grip of yourself!’  Shaking his head at himself he began to give himself an internal pep talk.  ‘Look, she’s probably freaking out about the fact she ass fucked your finger and enjoyed it.  What she needs is for you to be a man about it and reassure her, so stop acting like a crazy paranoid fuck and get on with it.’ 

He looked back at Sansa, his Little Bird, his woman, only to be met by her blue eyes brimming with unshed tears, staring intently at him.

“I love you Sandor.”

WHAT!?

He felt his mouth literally drop open.  He couldn’t have been more gobsmacked if she had shapeshifted into an actual bird.  That was the last thing he had expected to come out of her mouth.

‘I love you Sandor’...

‘I love you Sandor’...

‘I love you Sandor’...

The words echoed over and over.  Then suddenly his mind burst with activity, buzzing with a million thoughts.  Everything they had done, how _fucking good_ it had been, her full blown panic attack...  ‘I love you Sandor.’

His mind kept circling back to that single most important fact… Sansa _loved_ him!  She actually loved _him_.  He felt his heart surge and almost burst from joy. His wonderful, beautiful woman _loved him_.  The mad Little Bird.

He’d never dared to believe this could happen to him. With anyone, let alone Sansa, the most perfect woman the Gods had ever created, and the only woman he had ever wanted ‘more’ with.  Aye he had hoped.  So bloody much it was painful.  Having to bite back all the times he nearly said those words to her for fear he would frighten her away with the intensity of his feelings.  Too scared to risk what she was willing to give him in the futile pursuit of ‘more’.  Doubting that she could ever feel the same.  But how buggering wrong had he been? 

‘I love you Sandor.’

_‘_ Sansa _fucking_ Stark loves me’.  He could barely believe it.  He pinched his thigh, just to be sure he wasn’t dreaming, or had in fact died and gone to the seven heavens in error.  No.  Not dead or dreaming.  He definitely felt the sharp pinch of his fingers.  He did it again to be sure.

‘I love you Sandor.’ 

He loved her too.  They loved each other.

His whole body was thrumming with excitement and happiness.  He felt giddy as a newborn foal.

******

Sansa could see the shock etched on Sandor’s face.  The tension in his jaw, the twitch at the scarred corner of his mouth, his grey eyes stormy with a myriad of emotions.  Her heart ached for him.  ‘He doesn’t know what to make of such a confession’.   She saw the initial silver flash of joy, quickly tempered by a shadowy grey thundercloud, only to slowly brighten once more and smoulder with hope.

Sansa loved his eyes.  They were so beautiful, so expressive.

She loved him.

“Little Bird...” she saw him open and close his mouth, flustered, lost for words.  Then suddenly, as if someone had thrown a switch, words flowed in place of his mute articulations.

“Sansa... I didn’t dare to hope… for so long… for so long I’ve wanted… wanted to tell you.  You’ve made me the happiest bastard alive Little Bird.  I love you Sansa, I love you so fucking much.”

His mouth crashed upon hers kissing her heatedly.  Sansa could feel his love expressed in every sweep of his tongue, each nip at her lips.  As the heat of his kiss gentled into something slow and tender, his strong hands gently cradling her skull as if she were delicate china, she lifted her hand to cup his face and felt a wetness against his cheek.  In response she allowed her own tears to freely spill down her cheeks.

“I love you so much Sandor.  Please say that you know it, I want nothing more than for you to know my love for you is strong and true.  I couldn’t bear it if you doubted or thought me false,” she said showering kisses across his face, shoulders, chest, everywhere she could reach before returning to his mouth.

Sansa felt him shudder and heard his juddering exhale at her words.

“Please!  Please say you know it to be true,” she begged again between kisses.

“Hush little bird, stop your tweeting,” he replied as he kissed down her throat to her chest, to her breast, stopping to hover right over her heart. Placing a firm kiss there he looked her straight in the eyes, the truth shining bright light a beacon in the grey mist. 

“I don’t _believe_ that you love me Sansa…”

Her heart stuttered.

What!? Her breath left her in a gasp and she felt her heart plummet like a rock to the bottom of the ocean.  A buzzing began in her ears.  How?  How could she make him know…

His warm breath drifted across her neck as he began kissing beneath her ear, across her jaw to her mouth.  Pulling back just a fraction, nose to nose, cradling her head in both hands his eyes fixed upon her intently.  The intensity of his gaze nearly stole her breath again.

“I don’t _believe_ that you love me, because I _know_ that you love me Sansa.  Everything about the way you are with me tells me that truth.  I hadn’t dared to hope, but the truth has been there all along, in everything you say and do and share.  Of yourself not just your body.  It just took hearing the words from your mouth to finally light the bulb Little Bird.  Now hush, I want to kiss the fuck out of you.” 

Sansa felt his weight pressing her down into the mattress as he kissed her deeply, passionately.

Right then, his strong embrace, his passionate yet tender kisses evaporated all her worries.  This man loved her.  He wasn't repulsed or shamed by her.  His every look, touch and word spoke of his love for her.  It always had, she had just been slow to fully realise.

********

The initial burst of passionate kisses and touches that confessing their love had triggered, died down into a smoulder of lazy caresses, gentle kisses and whispered ‘I love you’s.  He would never, ever tire of telling her he loved her.  Nor of hearing it in return.

Taking a deep breath he inhaled the satisfying scent of Sansa… and sex.  He couldn’t help his mind wandering back to the amazingly passionate, slightly kinky sex they’d just had.  His cock gave a stir at the flood of arousing memories.  His Little Bird shedding her inhibitions and exploring her sexual appetites with him.  To his delight and extreme pleasure she could be a wild little thing given the right encouragement.  ‘More a wolf than a bird,’ he thought, allowing his hand to drift down and squeeze that delicious arse, which less than an hour ago he had fingered, _tasted!_   A pulse of residual pleasure shuddered through his balls at the memory of her tight little hole pulsing around his finger as she climaxed.  Fuck if he isn’t the luckiest bastard alive.

Just the memories had him hard and aching for her and he desperately wanted to know if she felt the same way, to ask if they might do more in the future.  Gods he hoped so. Knowing that they loved each other gave him the confidence to speak his mind without fear of her judgement or repulsion or her fleeing.  

“Mmmmmm, Sansa….” he moaned nudging his now hard cock against her thigh. “What we just did was...amazing. _Everything_ about it was amazing,” he said, sure to emphasise ‘everything’.  He didn’t want her in any doubt about how good her ass was, how much more of it he wanted. Gods she was like a delicious feast and he the glutton, gorging himself on her flesh, drowning in her juices.  “Gods woman...you make me feel like a beast, slavering over you insatiably.  I just can’t get enough of you, _all_ of you,” he groaned appreciatively, giving her ass another gentle squeeze. 

“Bu.. or… t ..‘s d.r..y,” came her quiet voice, muffled by the pillow she had buried her face in. 

“Hmmm?” he hummed in question turning onto his side to face her.  When she didn’t reply and kept her face determinedly hidden from him, he gently lifted her chin to face him. To his amusement he was greeted by the brightest red cheeks he’d ever seen, her teeth nibbling enticingly on her plump bottom lip.  It was an arousing sight.  But her eyes were darting restlessly about, looking anywhere but at him, and he could tell she was fighting her embarrassment.  He schooled his amusement and arousal, cocking his brow at her in question.

“I said, it’s dirty.”  Her voice was scare more than a whisper and as soon as the words left her mouth she flew back to the sanctuary of the pillow. 

“There’s nothing dirty about it,” he scoffed bluntly. “I bet there isn’t a healthy red-blooded male this side of Asshai that doesn’t want to plough his woman’s arse.”

“Sandor!” she exclaimed jerking up at his crudeness, giving him a light slap to the chest.  “Don’t call it that!”

“What… plough?” he laughed gently at her indignation.  “Fine... _anal sex_ …is that more to the liking of your delicate sensibilities _My Lady_?” he said in a mockingly gallant way, teasing her goodnaturedly.  He knew she found this topic embarrassing but he couldn’t help himself, she was so fucking gorgeous when flustered.

Huffing at him in exasperation Sansa gave a shy nod nonetheless.  She still looked mortified and he realised that she desperately needed reassurance.  He could tell thoughts about it being ‘dirty’ genuinely worried her. ‘This must have been the cause of that panic attack,’ he mused with a frown.  He needed to reassure her.  Instinctively he knew the way he handled this conversation would shape her future receptiveness.  Making sure to gentle his tone and look her dead in the eye, so she could see the truth of his statements, he began.

“Look, bottom line, no pun intended there Little Bird, is that there’s nothing wrong or dirty about what we just did.   Plenty of couples like anal play and anal sex, they just don’t necessarily shout about it.  Unless they’re Bronn... but he’s a special case.”

Seeing her relax and smile at his jest, he decided to tackle the topic head on.

“Sansa, everything that we do is about us, for us.  _Only us._   So long as _we_ both want it and enjoy it, that’s all what matters.  And enjoying what we do… that’s certainly nothing you ought to feel shy or embarrassed about,” he said looking at her intently.  “Especially with me,” he added nipping at her lips before deepening the kiss.  He slowly but passionately kissed her, cradling her skull gently to him with one hand whilst the other gripped her waist tightly.  He willed all of his love into his kiss.

He deliberated whether or not to ask his next question.  He had a pretty good idea of her thoughts already, she was just too embarrassed to voice them.  Besides he didn’t need to press the matter, everything was perfect as it was.  He should just allow whatever happens in the future to ‘just happen’, naturally.  But part of him wanted to be clear, _needed_ to be clear.  To know exactly what her boundaries are.  He didn’t want to push her into something in the heat of the moment that she might later regret.  He paused, taking a deep breath.  Her answer wouldn’t change his happiness, but it could make or break his sexual fantasies.

********

“So did you enjoy it?  Do you want it?” he rasped, his eyes piercing her with his intent gaze.  

She knew she would be tomato red.  Now that her panic attack was over, she wasn’t ashamed, just plain old embarrassed at having to voice aloud what they had done.  ‘All the things we might yet do,’ she thought with a thrill of hope and excitement.  Unable to look him in the eyes she dropped her head and sucked on his nipples instead, eliciting a small growl.

“Yes, I enjoyed it,” she admitted shyly into his chest.

“Mmmmm, me too.” His fingers grasped her chin and lifted her face to force her eyes to his.

“I enjoyed every moment of touching, licking and fingering your ass Sansa.  I’d do it again if you’d let me?” he said, the sincerity and slight vulnerability of his words blazing in his eyes. 

“It felt good,” she whispered tentatively.  Then more boldly, “I enjoyed it. I want to do it again.”

“Little Bird, you have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.  So long as you truly mean it?  It was good, you want more?  Don’t just say what you think I want to hear.”

Pulling back to look at him she bit her lip feeling a stab of arousal seeing the mix of emotions storming in his eyes.  The worry, raw lust and love.  Yes she was sure of it now, he loved her and by the Gods she loved him.

“I am, I promise. I love you.”

He pecked at her lips and cheeks affectionately, rubbing his nose against hers.  It was so tender and loving.  She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but there was something about the intimacy, the love she could feel in his gestures right now that threatened to overwhelm her.  She felt tears brim her eyes.  This man loved her completely and she him.

“I’m not,” she reassured him.  “It felt good.  I liked it.  It wasn’t as painful as I feared it might be,” she confessed.  “In fact I’m a little surprised it was as easy as it was, considering...”

She had been worried she would be too tight to allow any penetration and she felt absurdly proud of herself for taking his full thumb.  “I mean you’ve not exactly got small hands and we didn’t even use the lube I got.”  She sighed happily.

“You brought lube?” he growled quirking his eyebrow.

Oh!  She must have spoken her last thought out loud.  This was getting to be a dangerous habit she thought at herself with chagrin.

“Yes… strawberry flavour,” she confessed feeling her cheeks burn.  For some reason she felt insanely embarrassed at this admission.  More so than saying she liked his finger in her ass.

“Why?”

“You know… because I thought… well, I thought that if we, you know... that it might be useful if we… come on Sandor! You _know_ …”

He let out a high squeaky, almost childlike laugh at her embarrassed flustering.  It was adorable and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“No I don’t know… useful for what?” he asked the picture of innocence.

‘He’s teasing me,’ she thought piqued, which only served to make her feel even more flustered. 

“If we… if you… in my... errrrm...” she stammered hopelessly, annoyed at herself for giving him exactly the reaction he wanted.  Even so, she still couldn’t make herself say it.

“Come on Little Bird you can tell me…”

Gods she wanted to smack him right in his shit-eating grin.  He was infuriating.  And gorgeous she thought noticing how his lips had quirked up in that crooked smile she loved so much.  A smile that he reserved only for her.  She felt her annoyance melt away. ‘He’s completely at ease with me,’ she realised.  Being himself, teasing gently, being intimate.  Gods she loved him.

“In my... _rear entry_!” she blurted, sure she was positively luminous.  “I thought that you might like to try it, and that lube would be helpful.  So I got some, alright?” she finished in a rush.  When she saw the spark of lust in his eyes she felt her embarrassment give way to pride.

“Gods!  Little Bird, just the _thought_ that you were thinking about anal play.  Of being so up for it as to buy lube gets me so hot.  Although I bet you were shy as fuck and red as a damned strawberry the entire time.”  He smiled at her, leaning in to brush a gentle kiss against her lips. “My red Little Bird.” 

“I’ve _always_ liked the idea Sandor,” she whispered against his ear.  Feeling emboldened by his enthusiasm she decided to voice her thoughts, _explicitly_ , to leave no confusion.  “The thought of your cock fucking my ass really turns me on.  It gets me so wet when you describe it to me I practically drip I want it that badly.  But I worried that you would find it… me... disgusting.  That it might just be one of those things you talk about in the height of passion but don’t really mean.  But now I know that you mean it, and that you enjoyed it too…” she pressed her thighs together to ease the throb that was growing in her womanhood.

There was a pregnant pause whilst they held each other’s eyes intently.  His eyes were like a mirror, reflecting love and lust right back at her. 

“It felt good.  Really good and I’d like to see if it could feel even better,” she said shyly, chewing her lip. “I want to try it again, if you do,” she declared confidently.

“Fuck yes Little Bird!” he said kissing her roughly.  He rolled atop her, caging her in his arms as he kissed down her neck, sucking on her pulse point.  Sansa could feel his erection pressing into her thigh and wriggled herself against it encouragingly.

“Hmmm, maybe we could put that lube to good use?” he suggested nudging her thighs apart and shifting himself to press right up against her cunt.  “Although for the record I’d prefer a different flavour.  Your cunt juices would be far more delicious.  Perhaps we should commission a special one-off batch, ‘Sansa’s Juicy Cunt’ flavour?” he suggested with an eyebrow waggle.

“You dork,” she said slapping his chest.

“Oh by the way, you know I mentioned bumping into Mr.Varys... well it was when I was buying the lube.  He’s put it in his book.”

He let out a loud bark of laughter, then another and another until he collapsed back off her onto his back, laughing so hard he shook and tears crept from his eyes.

“Gods...the nosy fuck… I wish I had been there to see his face… I can only imagine... ” he wheezed trying to catch his breath.  But something in his imaginings must have amused him because it set him off again in another round of raspy laughs.  His mirth was contagious and Sansa couldn’t help joining him, the both of them laughing and kissing and holding one another.

But as their mirth died, Sansa lay there feeling frustratingly aroused by their conversation.  Her womanhood was wet and aching with desire after the way he had been grinding against it.  She desperately wanted Sandor to fuck her, to try out the things they had discussed.  She could kick herself for killing the mood by mentioning Varys.

Determined to reignite his earlier passion, she climbed on top of him and began rubbing herself against his flagging erection.  Slowly she rocked her hips back and forth against him to awaken him to full hardness.  It didn’t take long.  Ensuring he was watching, she pinched her nipples and palmed her breasts.  The jolt of pleasure caused her to moan and a surge of arousal to leak from her slit down onto his cock.  “Sandor,” she moaned at him, begging with her eyes for him to take her. 

“Fuck Varys,” he growled his eyes dark with lust.

“I’d rather you fuck me,” she quipped back.

“That,” he said gripping her hips tightly, “can be arranged.”

Suddenly, Sansa felt herself flipped onto her back, his weight pressing her down into the mattress as he kissed her deeply, passionately.  Sansa opened her legs to him, inviting his cock to push into her.  He entered her slowly and gently, then began rocking back and forth making love to her in a maddeningly slow rhythm.

He was driving her mad.  She wanted “more!”

****

 

 


	14. Fantasies fulfilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa asked for more. Sandor delivers.
> 
> Explicit sex right from the start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised here is the second of today's updates.
> 
> You've had your fluff. Now for the smut. 2,700 words of smut and a tiny helping of fluff at the end.
> 
> Warning! - this chapter is full of explicit sex right from the get-go guys, so if that's not your thing please skip this chapter.
> 
> Only one more chapter left and then the epilogue. My one-shot is almost finished. LOL.
> 
> As always I love your comments.

*****

After she had desperately asked him for “more!” he’d wasted no time in complying.  He’d flipped her over and dragged her to her knees, opening her cunt and ass to him. 

He shoved his face right up against her wet pussy and began to eat it like a man starved.  He licked and sucked at her juicy nub, relishing how gushes of her arousal soaked his lips and dribbled down into his beard.  Delving two fingers deep inside he began to tweak and stroke her, enjoying the feel of her brazenly grinding back against him, rubbing her clit against his rough, scarred lip.  She was riding his face to climax and it was hot as hell.

‘Fuck girl, cum on me, cum on me,’ he thought, wanting to drink her juices straight from the source.  He could tell she was getting close, she was almost there judging by the tight squeeze of her quim on his fingers.  In order to bring her over the edge, he gently sucked on her clit at the same time as he crooked his fingers inside.  Then he felt it, the telltale rhythmic tightening of her walls as her body shuddered and her breath stuttered.  When he was sure she had finished riding out her pleasure, he eagerly he moved his tongue to her entry to lap up the sweet juices she leaked as he gently removed his fingers.  Fucking delicious.

He climbed to his knees and admired the lips of her slit, swollen in arousal and from reddened from his ministrations.  What a fucking glorious sight.  He was rock hard and leaking and desperate to fuck her. 

“Still want more girl?” he asked, hopeful that she would.

“Yes, please,” she said, her voice shaky. 

So polite he thought with a smirk.  Well, it would be a shame to let the lady go wanting.  He was definitely going to give her what she wanted, and hopefully she would also let him play in her ass again.  He badly wanted to.

“May I?” he asked, imitating her politeness.  He brushed gently along her ass seam to let her know what he was asking for.

Her shaky nod and moan of assent was all he needed.

Just like before he delved his fingers into her cunt to gather her juices, before dragging them back up over her asshole coating it generously.  He slid his cock back into her wet warmth and began to fuck her in firm, smooth strokes, whilst his fingers teased and probed at her ass until it granted him entry. 

Whether it was her extreme arousal, or simply the fact that he’d already broken into her virgin ass once tonight already, he wasn’t sure, but either way it relaxed to him far easier than it had the first time.  She was still unbelievably tight, but her moans and whimpers were divine, spurring him on.  He loved that she loved it.  Encouraged he began to finger her ass in earnest, matching the speed, but not the force, of the thrusts of his cock.  Soon, to his awe and Sansa’s moan of delight, he was able to slowly ease a second finger in.  He watched them moving in and out of her stretched ass, wondering how much more she might be able to take.  After their conversation he couldn’t help but picture it taking his cock.  Especially now she had told him the idea turned her on. He scissored his fingers gently, stretching her, preparing her. 

‘She brought lube!’ he thought excitedly, grinding his cock deep into her sopping cunt.  She was moaning and panting and thrusting her ass back against his fingers.  She was ready, he knew she was, she was just too shy to say it, to ask for it.  She had said she wanted him to fuck her like he’d described.  Fuck!  Just the thought had his cock throbbing.  Fuck!  He wanted it so bad.

“Please Sansa, please let me have your ass?”

“Yes,” he heard her whisper, “I trust you Sandor… just be gentle... remember I’ve never done it before and you’re… big.”

He knew her cheeks would be blazing but she had nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about.  Her arse was beautiful and the thought of his cock deflowering her tight virgin ass had him throbbing in anticipation.  He knew it was tight, could feel how tight it was for his fingers.  So tight that in reality he knew that he wouldn’t be able to fit much of his cock in, and none at all without getting her really, really aroused and using plenty of lube.

Reaching into the bedside table to pull out the strawberry lube she had brought, he squirted a healthy dollop onto his palm and smeared it over his cock.

‘Fuck that’s cold!’ he thought as he quickly began stroking himself to spread it and warm it at the same time.  He squirted more onto his palm and rubbed them together before rubbing Sansa’s ass, stroking it over her crack.  The sensation was gloriously slippery and wet, but slightly sticky too, not as silky as her juices.  He lifted his lube covered fingers to his nose and sniffed, it didn’t smell too bad he supposed.  Tentatively he licked his finger.

‘Yuck,’ he thought wrinkling his nose.  It was tolerable but he’d much prefer her honey sweet juices.  Perhaps in time they would suffice, but for the first time he didn’t want to take any chances and fuck this up for her.  What he really wanted was for her to take his cock and love it. 

“Ready?” he asked his heart thudding in his chest.  He couldn’t believe they were going to do this, he was going to push his cock into her arse and fill her... fuck her.

“Yes,” she whispered, “just slowly to start ok?”

“Mmmm, of course.  I’ll not hurt you Little Bird,” he reassured, angling his cockhead right up with her puckered star.

Holding his breath he gently pushed and saw his bell shaped tip enter.  Fuck she was tight, really, _really_ tight.  Gently he pushed again, entering a bit further.  Her ass was gripping and then relaxing with each gentle push, each time allowing him a bit further in.  Dribbling lube down onto his cock as he went, steadily he pushed forward.  He was halfway in and the sight was intoxicating, her tight hole stretched wide around him.  He pulled back, her ass gripping him tightly causing a wonderful friction.  He dropped more lube down and pushed back in, this time with less resistance and he managed to slide deeper with a satisfying squelch.

Sansa took a deep, stuttering breath and he stopped.

“You ok? Want me to stop?” he asked.

“No,” she breathed, “carry on, I like it, it’s odd but good.  I feel so full Sandor and knowing it’s your cock in my ass... it’s dirty, naughty… I like it, it’s exciting.  Do you like it?  Is it good for you?”

Fucking hells yes! He’d dreamed about this, of course he liked it!  But he could hear the worry in her voice, that he might be disgusted at her enjoyment or that he didn’t like it after all.

“Sansa, this is fucking amazing, you are amazing.  I can’t believe I’m fucking your tight virgin ass.  It gets me so hot, the sight of my cock buried in you, stretching you… fucking hells girl, if I’m not careful I’ll squirt quicker than a green boy,” he reassured her.

He pulled back and pushed in again, this time his cock sliding more easily.  Applying a little more force he began to thrust gently.  He wasn’t fully in yet, he wanted to give her some pleasure before trying to go any deeper.  He reached round to her cunt only to feel her fingers on her clit.  Fuck now that was hot!  Frigging herself whilst he fucked her ass.  She began to pull back but he had an idea.

“No.  Together,” he said guiding her fingers back with his.  “I want to feel you touch yourself as I fuck your ass.”

He guided her fingers with his, pressing and stoking.  Their fingers slipping and sliding in her juices over her folds, over her clit, then pushing into her cunt.  He felt how her fingers stopped short of the sensitive patch he could reach and felt a smug satisfaction knowing that was something he alone could do for her.  Not in a spiteful way, but like he was a missing piece of her jigsaw, a piece that completed her. He crooked his fingers and began to stroke her there as he gently thrust his cock, each time sliding just a fraction deeper.

She allowed her fingers to slip out and move to her clit, her moans intensifying, taking on a desperate needy edge.  Her cunt was fluttering around his fingers, building up towards her peak and the way she was grinding her hips into him was maddening.  He was so aroused it was taking all his restraint not to fuck her hard and ram at her, but he tamped it down and focused on her pleasure.

“Sandoooooor,” she moaned pushing herself back against him “I need more, please.  Fuck my ass,”

He didn’t need to be asked twice.  Squirting another dollop of lube for good measure, he increased his pace and began to fuck into her.  He could feel the lush press of her ass against his groin as she tentatively began to push back against him, allowing him to slide deeper and deeper.

HOLY FUCK!

Her ass just gave way and allowed him to slip fully in… he was balls deep into her ass.  Fuck he nearly squirted at the sensation.  The length of his shaft surrounded by her warm, wet ass.  Clenching him so tightly he thought she might actually squeeze his cock off.

Sansa gasped followed by low guttural moan as she rocked her hips, as if testing how full she was.

Looking down, he slowly dragged himself out and pushed back in, watching the slick glide.  He repeated the move several times, unable to wrench his eyes away from the sight of her ass swallowing his cock.  He pushed back in firmer and faster, letting out a satisfying grunt.  Fuck this felt good.  Better than good.

He increased his pace and was almost overcome by sensation, his fingers being squeezed by her cunt, his cock surrounded by her ass, his balls smacking against her each time he bottomed out… the sight of her ass being fucked… by him… his cock thrusting in and out of her… and her moans... Gods her moans!

He fucked her harder, not as hard as he fucked her cunt in doggy earlier, but harder than he thought he might be able to… fucking hells this was… was… he had no words.

He could feel his sac tightening, his thrusts getting harder, more irregular.

“Sansa, can I…. can I?” he tried to ask feeling his climax almost upon him.

“Yes Sandor.  Fuck me, fuck my aaaahhhhh... my ass... aahhhh… gods don’t stop, please don’t stop...aaahhh,” she moaned.

He could tell she was close; her twitching quim, the snorting pants she was making, the desperate way she was grinding her hips back against him, her greedy cunt and ass swallowing everything he had to give.

“Cum for me Sansa, ride my fingers, I want to feel you cum as I fill your ass,” he growled, so close to his own release he wasn’t sure he could hold out.  Frantically he stroked the roughened patch of skin inside her cunt, pressing and rubbing in firm stokes each movement causing her walls to clench against him a little tighter. 

His pace intensified with his nearing orgasm, his thrusts coming hard and erratic now he was so close.

“Sansa!” he growled, warning her that he was close and needed to pull out, to ask if she would let him shoot over her back.  He momentarily got lost in images of his pearly, white seed landing in thick ropes across her back when her voice pulled him back.

“Sandor, it’s ok... you can cum... I want you to cum... in my ass… to fill me...”

It was her breathless, desperate ‘please’ that undid him.

‘UUUURRRGGHHHH, urrrrrggh, urrrrrgghhhh,” he growled like an animal, the force of his orgasm pounding through him.  His balls tightened up and his cock throbbed, releasing his seed in three powerful spurts deep into her ass. 

His vision went momentarily blank, pinpricks of colour bursting here and there, blood pounding in his ears.  His chest was heaving as he desperately dragged great gasps of air into his burning lungs.  His thighs were shaking like jelly and his entire body felt weak and light.  He wondered abstractly if this is what it felt like to die. 

It was only when he heard her cry and felt a sudden clenching on his cock that he he realised he was still seated deep in her arse and she was cumming; she was grinding her cunt onto his fingers riding her orgasm, her ass rhythmically pulsing in time with her cunt, sucking every last drop from him.

Using every last ounce of strength he possessed, he held himself there, allowing her to ride out her orgasm.  The sight of her ass bucking back against his cock as she moaned and writhed her pleasure was a sight that would be forever imprinted on his memory.  Only when he had felt the last vestiges of her climax leave her did he prepare to withdraw, carefully.  He didn’t want to miss this sight.

Slowly he pulled back, his cock slick with cum and lube. When he pulled his cockhead out he could see her stretched hole, glistening with the combined juices.  What a fucking sight! It was glorious.  Her ass hole puckered up and a slow trickle of his milky white cum began to leak out and drip down onto the covers below.  It was followed by a rush of thicker cum which slipped out of her in a one big glop and landed with a thick splat.  Fucking hells, if that wasn’t the most erotic sight he’d ever seen.  Her perfect tight ass spilling out his cum.

“Fuck Sansa, that was… I love you.”

He quickly moved her to lay next to him.  He held her tightly to his chest and stroked her hair, shoulders and back, as he had taken to doing post lovemaking.  It was how he said ‘I love you’ before speech was fully possible, whilst he waited for their breathing to return to normal.  To allow the heat of the moment to settle so she would know his words would be meaningful and not spoken in the height of passion.

*******

Sansa awoke to Sandor shifting her slightly in his arms.  It was the best feeling to wake to his comforting smell and his warmth beneath her.  She snuggled contendely deeper into his chest.  How long had she been sleeping?  Glancing at the window she saw that it was pitch dark outside and the stillness of the street suggested that it was sometime in the early hours. Still coming out of her sleep haze she was puzzled.  She didn’t recall settling for sleep, her last memory was… oh!

Fidgeting slightly Sansa could indeed feel the sticky residue of his cum around her ass cheeks and on the tops of her thighs, where it had clearly continued to leak out of her as she slept.  With mortification she realised she had climaxed, fallen down in a heaving, spent tangle with Sandor, and then promptly fallen asleep.  She hadn’t even cleaned herself up.  And Sandor.  Poor Sandor!  How long had he been lying here holding her dead weight in his arms, letting her slumber across his chest?

When she swallowed she felt the telltale dryness in her throat that indicated she had slept with her mouth open.  Tentatively she licked her lips and, as feared, felt wetness at the corner of her mouth confirming that she had indeed drooled in her sleep.  Shifting her head slightly she felt the little damp patch below her cheek where her drool had pooled onto his chest hair.

Gods this man. He could be the best sort of beast in bed, but also the biggest, softest, gentlest most loving man she could ever wish for.  Her man.  Holding her as she slept, with a more than likely dead arm, listening to her snoring and letting her dribble into his chest hair.  He was perfect.  She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.  It was too soon to tell him that she knew, but she did.

“I love you Sansa,” she felt him whisper against the crown of her head.

“I love you too,” she replied snuggling deeper into his arms. 

Resting her head on his chest she listened to the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart.  ‘It belongs to me,’ she thought with pride.  This man.  This incredible man was hers.  He loved her.

“I still can’t believe it Sansa.  That you really, actually love _me_.”

She could hear the wonder and doubt in his voice.  She knew that he knew it deep down, but years of rejection and being shunned had left him like a kicked puppy that couldn’t believe a gentle touch.  He needed reassurance.  Reassurance that she didn’t mind giving and would keep giving him until he no longer needed it.

“Well, I’m lying here shitting your cum out my ass, so yeah… I think it’s safe to say I love you,” she joked with him.  It was a lighthearted jest but she hoped the seriousness of what she implied came through.  She had shared things with him that she had only been able to share _because_ she loved him.  She was completely, totally, utterly, madly in love with him.

“I love you Sandor, you big-gruff-puppy-man.  My man.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.  I love you.  I love you,” she said pressing a flurry of kisses to his brow, cheeks, lips, chest and right over his heart.  She would tell him a thousand times if needed.  A million.  As many times as he needed to hear it to believe it.

“No, the part about shitting out my cum.”

“WHAT! Why,” she asked jerking up in shock, cheeks burning in mortification at how crude she had been.

“So I can look at you and imprint the visual of your face this time,” he deadpanned looking steadfastly at her.  “It’s something, never in a million years, I would have thought to hear you utter.  What with your sensibilities and all,” he laughed holding his hands up to catch her indignant yet good natured smacks.

“You great, bloody... dork,” she giggled at him.

“Dork!  Come on you can do better than that,” he teased.

She began spluttering, trying to think up something suitably crude and offensive but her mind remained stubbornly blank. 

“You… you… you giant dork!” she huffed out.

At this he burst into great barks of laughter, his chest heaving and tears leaking from the corner of his eyes.  Gods she loved him so bloody much.

“My dork,” she said firmly, planting a kiss on his lips.  She felt his muscles tense and suddenly her head span as he lifted her up and rolled her over onto her back, his weight pressing her firmly into the mattress.  She opened her mouth to him when she felt him deepen the kiss.  His tongue still tasted of her and she kissed him fiercely, trying to lick her flavour from him.  His beard was still damp with her juices and the heavy musk of her cunt juices enveloped them.  It was heady and arousing and she felt a pulse of desire run through her, driving her to kiss him harder, faster, deeper. 

All too soon they had to break apart breathless. 

“Your dork,” he agreed.  “Now fuck me,” he growled grinding his cock against her thigh.

“Already?!” she asked slightly shocked.

“What can I say?  The thought of your ass shitting cum does things to a man.”

*******

 

 

 


	15. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor only POV where he reflects on his love for Sansa and attempts a proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you are, the last chapter guys and it's fluff, pure fluff. No smut so you're safe to come out from hiding now!
> 
> Hope you enjoy and please comment <3

****

Sated and happy they lay lazily in each other's arms.  Sansa’s head was cushioned on his chest, which was still heaving slightly from their exertions.  Sandor ran his hand gently over her back in soothing strokes, down the length of her tousled hair, onto the small of her back then her bottom, before retracing his path in reverse.  He nuzzled his face into the crown of her head, kissing her there and inhaling her scent.   

Sandor felt her dropping featherlight kisses to his chest, right over where his heart was thumping, her other hand stroking patterns on his tummy, tracing the lines of his muscles.  Their feet were entwined, knotted together with the well-wrinkled bed sheet.  This right here, was perfect.  He didn’t want it to end ever.

He looked at her.  Really looked at this amazing creature laying in his arms.  The woman he loved.  The woman that loved him.

She was beautiful.  Silky red hair, delicate heart-shaped face, creamy skin with a dusting of freckles here and there.  That adorable little mole on her sensitive neck.  He smiled as he thought about how she would wriggle and squirm whenever he kissed it.   She had perfect bow shaped lips that kissed him so sweetly - or sinfully depending on circumstance.  The most captivating blue eyes, so piercing in their intensity that he was sure could see into his very soul.

Delicate and fragile, like the Little Bird he called her.  Slender limbs that fit snugly within his massive form, tiny hands dwarfed by his enormous mitts.  Skin that bruised easily as a peach and turned red if she got too much sun.  He remembered that time she had appeared at spin class her skin bearing the distinctive pink of sunburn, apart from thin white strips across her shoulders and around her neck.  She told him it was where her bikini strap had been.  He had tortured himself with thoughts of her in that bikini. 

She also has a sensitive, gentle soul, easy for some malicious cunt to hurt. He wanted to protect her from the Baelishes and Joffreys of the world.  Gods she is so precious. The thought of her being harmed in any way ignited a core of rage inside him that surpassed even that which he felt for his cunt brother.  Sandor will kill anyone that tries to harm her.   He will keep her safe.

But the truth was, for all of her fragility, underneath her porcelain exterior lay a core of steel when needed.  A fierceness that was truly wonderful to behold.  He remembered how she had faced up to Joffrey when they had bumped into him at the store last week.  Joffrey had taunted Sansa for ‘dating a monster’, congratulating her on ‘finally finding a guy desperate enough to tolerate such a frigid bitch’.  Sansa had straightened her spine, held her head high and looked at Joffrey with ice in her eyes.  She had calmly told Joffrey that he was the worst person she had ever met and that he was the true monster not Sandor.  She finished by telling him that actually she wasn’t frigid, she was very far from it.  She was simply attracted to men, real men, not unhinged little boys.  He felt a surge of admiration and pride bloom in his chest at the memory of how fierce and strong she had been.  His Little Wolf-Bird.

And hells is she sexy.  All curves and silky soft skin.  Legs that go on forever, perky tits with gorgeous brown nipples, a firm, peachy ass.  But her sexiness is far more than her body and looks.  It’s the way she responds to him, the way her body comes alive at his touch.  It drives him wild.  How gooseflesh rises along her skin when he draws his fingertips over her in teasing patterns.  Her kiss swollen lips, flushed cheeks and blown pupils.  The way her breath hitches and sighs as he touches her.  How her gentle caresses grow bolder as she grasps and claws at him.  Soft kisses become wild and desperate.  Delicate involuntary whimpers mature into guttural moans and cries as her passion takes hold.  The way her nipples pebble and her chest heaves with shaky breaths.  The sight of her quim swollen and slick with arousal. How her shivers and twitches of pleasure grow into unbridled, undulating, writhing passion.  ‘Passion for _me!_ Fuck.  How the hells did that happen?’ 

Sansa is amazing in bed, by turns soft and gentle then wild and passionate.  Willing to experiment and explore their fantasies.  Whether they were fucking or making love, using hands, mouth, cunt or ass, the feeling of their bodies joined together is the closet he would ever come to the Seven Heavens.  Never has he had such sexual chemistry with someone.  But that’s because what they share goes deeper than flesh.

She is fucking amazing.  He could rattle off a list as long as his arm if someone asked him what her good qualities are; kind, funny and intelligent.  The way she sees the worth of others, how she manages to bring out the best in people - except that cunt Joffrey, but that’s inbreeding and a fucked up family, can’t blame the girl for that.  Hell she should get an award for putting up with as much of his shit as she did.  Heck she has even managed to see something in _me_ , see past my scars and gruff demeanour and ‘ _assholeness_ ’.  To see the man beneath. 

She is generous, whether it’s her time, money or herself, she is completely and utterly selfless.  With me specifically.  She gives him all of herself, physically and emotionally. She shares her joy, sadness, insecurities, fears, hopes and dreams and her desire. 

Her trust in him... it blows him away.  To know that she feels safe and encouraged to be her true self and share her most private thoughts and feelings with him and only with him.  A Sansa that only he sees.  It’s almost overwhelming.   He feels so bloody privileged.  He feels his eyes prick with tears and quickly blinks them back.

But she had her faults too.  For one she’s forever forgetting to turn her bloody straighteners off and the threat of them torching his apartment is a real and present danger.  Her addiction to lemon cakes is contagious and he’d already gone ‘off plan’ numerous times at her ‘ _encouragement_ ’. 

But seriously what were her faults?

She is overly self-critical and lacks confidence.  Fuck knows why.

She can be naive at times and is too trusting by far.  Sometimes it infuriates the fuck out of him.  It’s as if she thinks life is some fucking fairytale and everyone is as good, honest and true as she is.  But he sees things as they are, he knows how awful the world really is.  Sandor can see through gutless frauds in no time flat.  Plus he has strong arms and a body of steel, so is more than capable of keeping her safe. 

‘We are each other’s perfect balance,’ he thought.  Her beauty to my beast.  Her gentleness and optimism to my roughness and cynicism.  She truly is the most beautiful person he has ever known.  Inside and out.  He couldn’t have found anyone better if he’d asked the gods to bespoke create someone for him.

‘Gods only know why she’s chosen an old dog like me, but she has and I mean to live up to her faith in me.’

She is perfect.  This is perfect.  _We_ are perfect.

He must have sighed because Sansa lifted her head to look at him.  Her eyes… ‘so fucking beautiful,’ he would never, ever tire of looking into those eyes.  That was when it hit him!  He wanted forever.  He wanted to marry her, protect her, cherish her, fuck her.  But most of all he wanted to love her, to the best of his ability for the rest of his days.

FUCK.

He was trembling with emotion at his realisation. 

‘Like a bloody fool’ he huffed to himself.  Now that he had realised the depth of his feelings he couldn’t contain it, he wanted to share them with her, the only person he could ever imagine wanting to share such personal feelings with.  It felt so right.

He became a bundle of nervous energy.  He needed to tell her but he hadn’t planned it.  Shouldn’t he have flowers, candles, chocolates, a violin?  What was it they did in the soppy movies she likes?  Sunsets, romantic picnics, surprise getaways.  He hasn’t done any of that.  A ring!  He didn’t even have a bloody ring.  But he couldn’t contain it, his feelings were ready to burst out of him. 

Sansa must have sensed his anxiety, because she sat up and looked at him “Are you alright Sandor, you seem… distracted by something?” she asked gently, her concern evident.

He needed to tell her.

“Sansa?” he squeaked, his voice sounding like it was breaking all over again.  He coughed, trying to clear his throat. If he was going to do this all wrong, he would at least sound like the 38 year old man he was whilst he was doing it.

“Sansa,” he repeated, thanking the gods that he sounded more like his usual self this time.  He hurried to continue before his courage failed him.

“Gods you’re perfect.  I never want another person as long as I live.  Just you.  It’s not the sex.  I don’t want you for sex.  Well I do.  But….ahhh Fuck it.” he growled in frustration.  It sounded a lot worse than it had in his head a moment ago.

Sansa giggled at him, biting her lip, reaching forward to stroke his cheek. 

Encouraged he continued.

“The sex is amazing and that’s part of it, but it’s more than that.  So much more.  It’s this... the laughter, the intimacy, your warmth.  It’s all of it.  Your strength, your kindness, your gentle heart, your bad cooking, your tears, your fears... everything.  I want it all Sansa and I want you, only you.  You’re it for me girl.”

He took a deep breathe.

“I love you Sansa.  Be mine.  Marry me.”

She flung her arms around his neck, tears wetting his shoulder as she started shaking with gentle sobs.

‘Oh gods. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’ve fucked it up.… it’s worse than I thought.’

“I love you too Sandor… I… I just… I love you, so, so so much.  You’re it for me too,” she gasped out her voice thick with tears.  Sniffling, she wiped her eyes, took one look at him then started again.

“Why are you crying girl, is it because I haven’t got a ring?” he panicked.

“I’m just so happy Sandor, they’re good tears, happy tears.  I promise.”

His body sagged, releasing the tension he had unknowingly been holding in a big sigh of relief.  He grabbed her tight to his chest, cradling her in his arms, stroking her back.

“It’s a good job I love you woman, you bloody scared the life out of me then,” he joked, delighting as she giggled back at him. 

They just sat holding each other in silence for a moment, smiling big stupid grins at each other.

“So… we’re engaged... to be married.  I’ll be your wife,” Sansa chirped as if testing the statements.  Hearing her voice say them aloud made it glaringly real, but to his surprise he didn’t feel panic or apprehension. Just a certainty that this was right.  Meant to be.

“Aye Little Bird, you’ll be my wife.”

“EEEEEEEKKKKK We’re engaged!” Sansa screeched throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately.

****

The next morning as Sandor collected his post from the doormat in the hallway, he noticed amongst his usual bills and junk mail there was a little white envelope.  It had clearly been hand delivered as there was no address or stamp.  He held it at arm’s length and opened it cautiously, eyeing it mistrustfully.  After all, who would want to send him a hand delivered card and why?

He huffed a smile and shook his head when he saw it was a ‘ _congratulations on your engagement’_ card.  ‘There’s only one person this could be from,’ he thought recalling Sansa’s screech from last night.  Indeed when he opened up the card he saw that it was signed by Varys _._

“Little Bird!” he called.  “LITTLE BIRD!”

“Yes Sandor?” she said hurrying into the hallway wearing nothing but his T.shirt and a smile that melted his heart. 

“Our first congratulations card,” he said handing her the card, loving the excited gleam in her eyes as she eagerly opened it up.  He had to smirk when he saw the rising flush to her face when she realised who the card was from and she figured out how Varys must have known.  ‘Yes Little Bird, these walls really are really thin!’ he thought. 

Then to his amazement Sansa turned to face the wall and shouted “Thank you Mr.Varys!”

 

 

 

 


	16. Epilogue: Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor thinks back on how he met Sansa and the early days of their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is the final bit of H&B! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my first (unintentional) multi-chapter fic. I had a blast writing it and have lots of ideas for other little one-shots and snippets branching off from this. But all in good time... 
> 
> Suchahag - hopefully you get the little mention made just for your enjoyment :)))
> 
> As ever, please leave your comments they make my day :)

****

Sandor jogged after his auburn haired girl, arms outstretched ready to catch her at any given moment.  Serena was riding her bike without the training wheels for the first time and she was wobbling wildly, her little legs pumping furiously.  Sansa was following behind, eagerly calling out encouragement  “Faster, don't stop pedalling sweetheart, keep going, faster, faster!”

With a smirk Sandor recalls how he met her mother at those torturous spin classes.  How it had been him shouting “faster, faster!” and it had been her legs pumping up and down relentlessly, tits jiggling deliciously. 

That’s how it all started for them.  Attraction and flirting in spin class and a towel mix up.  A mix up that had started a chain of events which resulted in _that_ fateful night.  The night that finally, thankfully, brought them together.  The night that had also became part of gym lore… the night that Sandor had both Sansa and Olenna… whether together or sequentially depends on who’s telling the tale. 

‘No prizes for guessing who fuels those rumours!’ Sandor thought with an amused huff. 

Neither is true though.  He didn't have either of them that night... alone, together or sequentially.  “Never had Olenna full stop!” he grouses at anyone who dares to raise the topic within his earshot, despite the old biddy’s protestations to the contrary.  Thankfully the horny old wench has Tywin firmly in her clutches these days and he no longer has to fear being stealth groped when he bends down for his water bottle, or being ambushed in the store cupboard, or worse still the ‘accidental’ shower room mix up.  Sandor shuddered and tried desperately to remove the imagery of her naked wrinkly body sliding into the mens shower cubicles.  But instead it just brought forth even more disturbing flashbacks of that time he and Sansa discovered Olenna and Tywin using the spin bikes in a most creative manner.

Sandor shuddered and instead thought back to the early days of his relationship with Sansa.  Somehow he and his Little Bird had made it two whole weeks before finally making love.  An excruciating, exhilarating fortnight of exploration and discovery, he recalled fondly.

Perhaps I ought to get a T.Shirt printed with ‘I didn’t fuck Olenna Tyrell’ on it in big, bold print.  But Sansa... he smiled.  He _definitely_ should get a T.shirt printed saying ‘I fucked Sansa Stark’.  It’s Clegane now though he thinks with pride.  I wonder if she’d wear a coordinating one saying ‘and I liked it!’ he smirked.  She had definitely liked it.

Six blissful months later he had realised that what he felt ran deeper than passion.  He was in love with her.  A part of him had always know it, but that’s how long it had taken him to pull his head out of his arse and make the world's most ham-fisted proposal.  Now, seven years later they were still as in love as ever.  They had a daughter and another child on the way.  He couldn't be happier. 

Seeing that Serena had finally got the hang of it he paused to allow Sansa chance to catch up.

He looked back at his wife and smiled, beckoning her to join him.  She was as beautiful today as when he first set eyes on her.  Pregnancy had made her even more beautiful.  There was something about seeing her heavily swollen belly growing his seed, creating his family, that satisfied him on a primal level.  He couldn't be more proud of her, or any more fiercely in love with her.

His eyes hungrily swept over her.  Gods her milk swollen tits looked magnificent, he’d have a suckle at them later.  Another perk of pregnancy - besides the incredible boobs, hips and ass -  was the insatiable lust that the baby hormones created.  If their utility room saw any more action they’d have to licence it a knocking shop.  Gods he’d never again be able to hear the phrase ‘Sandor could you help me de-lint the tumble dryer please,’ without springing a boner. 

“What are you smiling about?” Sansa asked him with a twinkle in her eye, as if she knew _exactly_ what he had been thinking.  She had always had that uncanny ability to see right into his soul.  It was what had made him fall in love with her. The way she could see past the surface, see past his faults, and see the man beneath, _love_ the man beneath.

Snaking his arm around her shoulders he bent his mouth to her ear.

“I thank the Gods for that towel mix up every day you know,” he whispered kissing the crown of her head.

 


End file.
